


Golden Stag

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 65
Words: 134,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year 283 A.C. is significant for the birth of two princes Joffrey and Tommen Baratheon, sons of Robert and Cersei. Twins will they work together to keep the throne, or fight for control of Westeros?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winterfell

****

**4 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

Winterfell, his home these past eight years, ah how he loved it here, the walls were surprisingly warm considering where the castle was located, but he had long ago learned of the hot springs deep underneath the ground that warmed the castle even in the bleakest winter moons. It was more a home to him than the Red Keep had ever been, the memories he had of the Red Keep were distant and somewhat broken, he remembered playing at swords with his father when his father had cared to, he remembered running around the keep with Cella, and he remembered getting into trouble with mother over some incident or the other because of Joffrey. Yes Joffrey had been a constant source of trouble for Tommen during his years in King’s Landing, he had only seen eight namedays in King’s Landing, but his twin had always been a constant source of trouble always doing something or the other and pinning the blame on him. Tommen still had nightmares where he saw Joffrey skinning Mrs Cruickshanks to get to the little kittens. Tommen had protested that, the kittens had all died because of his twin’s idiocy and his twin had simply pinned the blame on him and so he had suffered for it. Still he had always loved kittens, he did not know why but he had always had a special affinity to the little cats and even the big cats as well. During his journey to the mountains with Lord Eddard, Robb and Jon he had stared in wonder at the mountain lions that had roamed freely.

As for the Starks, they were his family for all intents and purposes. Yes he loved his father, mother and siblings, and Cella would always hold a special place in his heart, but the Starks, the Starks meant more to him. Lord Eddard was like a second father to him, the man who had taught him what it was to be a man, what it was to wield a sword and had taught him what it meant to be an honourable and just man, yes if he was being true to himself Lord Eddard was his hero, much like his own father was. Lady Catelyn was a kind lady, she was shrewd as well, but to Tommen she had been more of a mother to him than his own mother was, and for that he was every grateful. Then there were the boys he considered brothers, Robb, his drinking partner, his brother in arms, his confidant, Jon the one who always managed to get them out of trouble one way or another. Then there were the girls, Sansa, sweet and beautiful Sansa, gods she had truly grown into a lovely girl, her flowering had brought the best out of her and if he were being true to himself Tommen knew he wanted to be more than just friends with her, but at the same time he knew that was wrong, no doubt she would end up married to his brother. Arya, was a fierce little girl who was always getting into trouble something that was a constant source of amusement to Tommen and his brothers in arms. As for Bran and Rickon, he did not truly know them, not especially but he cared for them all the same.

That was why he was quite nervous as he walked to Lord Eddard’s solar, Maester Luwin had come and found him, telling him that Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn wished to speak with him, and though he was convinced that they had managed to stop the water from falling on Theon’s head, he would not be surprised if Jon had forgotten to take the water off. Still he and Ser Arys walked in silence to the solar, and when he knocked and was told to enter he walked in and saw both Lord and Lady Stark sat together where Lord Eddard normally sat, he sat down in the chair opposite them both and asked. “You wished to speak with me, my lord my lady?”

As always it was Lord Eddard who spoke first in his deep voice. “We did Tommen, there has been a raven from King’s Landing.”

Tommen lets that news sink in for a moment, very rarely do his parents write to him anymore, at least his mother rarely writes to him anymore, she did once upon a time, but once he turned four and ten the letters stopped, and yet his father continued writing to him as did Cella. “Why was that my lord?”

“Your family is coming to Winterfell. It seems Robert will be bringing most of the court with him as well. We wished to let you know beforehand.” Lord Eddard responds.

Tommen feels something akin to butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he asks. “I do not mean to be rude my lord, but why are they coming? It will take a long time for them come here, and I do not know what the reason could be.”

“Can they not just wish to come to see their son, whom they have not seen for eight years Tom?” Lady Catelyn asks kindly.

Tommen looks at his foster mother somewhat surprised. “I do not mean to be rude my lady, but I do not think that my mother would come to the north regardless of whether I was here or not.”

He hears Lord Eddard sigh and he knows he is right. “Your name day is fast approaching and you will be one year closer to being a man.  And whilst, I am sure that they are wanting to be here for your nameday, the reason why they are coming here is because Jon Arryn has died.”

This news shocks Tommen, he remembers the hand of the king somewhat, and the man was always kind to Tommen and always seemed to be strong. “I am sorry my lord, I know he was a good man.” he then looks at Lady Catelyn and asks. “I hope Lady Lysa and Lord Robert are well my lady, I know it can be difficult to lose a loved one.” Memories of a past love echo through his head but he tries to block them out.

“Thank you sweetling, they are both well. But yes, the royal court is coming to Winterfell. And I am sure you will wish to be prepared for their coming.” Lady Catelyn says.

“Thank you for letting me know my lord, my lady. I am sure uncle Gerion will be delighted to see my mother and my uncles. He always goes on about them, perhaps now he can have some new stories to tell.” Tommen jokes.

Lady Catelyn laughs whilst Lord Eddard merely smiles. “That is all we wished to say my prince, so unless you have something more to say you are free to go.”

Tommen is silent a moment and then says. “I am sure that soon enough Theon will come complaining about having some water spilled on him from one of the doorways. The idea was mine, and mine alone.” With that he smiles at them both turns and walks out.

As he walks toward where he knows Robb and Jon will be, Ser Arys his sworn sword and a knight of the Kingsguard asks. “Why did you do that back there my prince? Why lie about the bucket when we both know that it was Jon who planted it there.”

Tommen stops and looks at his sworn sword. “Because Jon gets enough grief from Greyjoy for what he is. There is no reason to further aggravate things between the two of them, and besides, Theon would never try retaliating against me whereas he would with Jon.”

“So you are doing the noble thing then my prince.” Ser Arys says something akin to admiration in his voice.

Tommen feels somewhat uncomfortable but also somewhat proud at the praise. “I was merely doing the right thing. Let Jon have some more fun before my family comes. Gods alone know he won’t when they are here.” With that they both go silent and walk the rest of the way to the practice yards in silence. When he arrives he sees both Robb and Jon watching Smalljon Umber and Torrhen Karstark sparring. “Evening boys, who is winning the fight today?” he asks casually.

Robb who has his direwolf pup Greywind in his arms turns round and says softly. “Smalljon is winning as per usual. Torrhen just can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that the bigger the man is the harder it will be for him to simply go all in.”

“Think you could do any better Stark?” Jon asks. “No doubt you’d go swaggering in and be on your arse in a few moments.”

“Better than you would do Snow,” Robb responds jokingly.

“We all know I’d last longer than either of you, and more than likely come out on top. Smalljon relies on his strength, he has so many gaps in his defence he’d be dead if this was a real fight.” Tommen says sagely.

“Well we are sorry Prince Tommen, the Golden Stag of Winterfell that we lesser mortals cannot see the weaknesses which you claim are there.” Robb says bowing mockingly.

Tommen punches his friend on the arm and says. “You’d see them too if you stopped making eyes at Lynora. If you like her so much go and speak to her and have done with it.”

Robb blushes at that and says. “Gods you sound like Theon. Not all of us are princes who can get away with doing whatever they like. Some of us have to keep our trousers on.”

Tommen roars with laughter then. “Come now Stark, have some fun. You are far too serious by half. And you Snow, if you got some action perhaps you wouldn’t be so solemn all the time.”

Before Jon can respond, Robb asks. “Well what did mother and father want to speak with you about? The way maester Luwin phrased it made it seem like it was something serious. It wasn’t about the water bucket was it?”

“No it was not about the water bucket Robb. My family are coming to Winterfell.” He says simply.

“They’re coming for your nameday then? Good at least now they’re showing some interest in you!” Jon says.

“No they’re not coming for my nameday, but they will probably try and make it look that way. Jon Arryn is dead, and so I do believe my father is coming to name your father hand of the king.” Tommen says.

“Would the king of Westeros travel all the way to Winterfell to do that? Why not simply send a raven?” Robb asks.

“Because father is not just any lord, he is the man who helped King Robert win the rebellion six and ten years ago. Father is his oldest friend it makes sense he would come to Winterfell to name him hand in person. And that Tommen is here as well, makes it easier for him to come and justify coming.” Jon says sagely.

“Jon has it there. My family and the court are coming. No doubt they will all be looking at us wondering why my father would name a Northman hand, but they can go fuck themselves.” Tommen responds.

“How are you feeling about them coming Tom?” Jon asks.

Tommen thinks for a moment and then says. “Nervous. I admit I am quite nervous. I have not seen any of them for eight years, and to be truthful corresponding by raven is not the same as speaking to someone face to face. What if they don’t like me? What if I disappoint them? What if I don’t like them?”

“Who could not like you Tom?” Robb asks incredulously. “You’re the perfect prince, everyone knows that. They’d have to be blind or stupid or both not to be proud of you.”

“Robb’s right Tom, your parents will be proud of you. I know they will. And you will get to see your brother and sister again.” Jon responds.

“Aye that is true.” Tommen responds.

“Do you want to have a round before we have to go inside Tom?” Robb asks.

Tommen is silent a moment and then says. “No, thanks for the offer, but I need to speak to my uncle. DO you know where he is?”

Both boys are silent a moment and then Jon responds. “More than likely at the Smoking Log.”

“Thank you.” Tommen says, as he turns round and walks off in the direction of the inn. He walks through the winding pathways of Winterfell saying hello to various people he passes with Ser Arys as his white shadow as the night begins. After much walking he enters the Smoking Log, and after a quick glance finds his uncle at the bar, he walks over and calls for an ale. He sits next to his uncle and says. “I trust you have heard the news uncle?”

His uncle was always a jester and a drinker, his golden hair turning somewhat grey, his green eyes though are still alive with life. “Aye, Jon Arryn is dead and the King comes to name Lord Eddard hand. Your mother will be coming as well. Gods help us all.”

Tommen smiles slightly. “Will you still be going to Casterly Rock uncle with them coming?”

His uncle takes a swig of ale and then responds. “Aye. This journey must happen. After years of reading and looking I finally know where Brightroar is. I cannot give up this opportunity.”

“And you are sure Brightroar will be where you think it is? This is not some false hope like the last time?” Tommen asks.

“I am certain of it.” His uncle says.

“And what of Tyrek? Will he go with you?” Tommen asks.

“No, Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn have said Tyrek can remain here. Be good to him and keep him away from Greyjoy whilst I am away will you.” His uncle says.

“Of course. How long do you think you will be gone for uncle?” Tommen asks.

His uncle takes another swig of ale and then responds. “A moon at most, I cannot stand to be round Tywin longer than that. Two weeks to ride to the Rock, a week there and then a week riding back. I will have the sword and still be back before the royal party comes.”

“You are confident then.” Tommen responds.

His uncle turns and gives him a sly smile. “Of course. No point not being confident, I am a Lannister not a Martell, if I want to do something I will get it done quickly.”

“Of course uncle of course. But you will be here for when father and Cella come right? I don’t think either of them would be happy if you were not here.” Tommen says.

“Oh aye, I do not think I’d want to miss seeing my favourite niece. She seems to have grown into a lovely woman. You might have to keep Robb and Jon away from her aha.” His uncle responds.

“Oh I don’t doubt she has, but I do not think it will be Robb or Jon I would have to keep away from her. More than likely Theon Greyjoy.” Tommen says grimly.

“True, very true. But you do realise what this means do you not. No doubt betrothals will be made, your father wants a Stark and a Baratheon married to one another. Either your sister or brother will come away with Stark marriages. Make sure little Sansa is not the one going south at the end of this.” His uncle says before he finishes his drink and stands up.


	2. A Lady Of Winterfell

**4 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lady Sansa Stark**

When mother had told her that the royal party was to be coming to Winterfell, Sansa had been very excited, very, very excited. It was not every day that the royal family came north, hells, no one exciting had come north since Lord Yohn Royce and his sons had come to see Ser Waymar off to the wall, and that had been near a year ago now.  So yes Sansa was very excited, and though she was four and ten, she could not help but feel like a little girl on her name day waiting to see what new adventures and surprises this visit would bring. A part of her was also happy for Tommen, who would get to see his family again after so long, and though he would never admit it, she knew Tom did deeply miss his family, so in that regard she was happy for him. On another note she was also excited to get a chance to see the Queen who was said to be the most beautiful lady in the realm, and though Sansa thought her own mother was the most beautiful lady in the realm, she was curious to see what the Queen was like. And then there was the crown prince, Joffrey, from the letters Tommen had read to her, his brother seemed to be charming and all the things that a prince was supposed to be. A part of her wondered if Prince Joffrey would be as good looking as Tommen was or if he would be even better looking, she knew it was somewhat childish but she could not help but wonder.

Of course with the royal court coming Sansa knew that there would be more Lannisters coming as well, no doubt cousins and aunts and uncles to the Queen, and whilst Sansa did not completely like the thought she did think it might be nice to meet other Lannisters. She liked Tommen’s uncle Gerion, he was a kind man, who liked to laugh and joke about many a thing, and was also a very good warrior. That he was also still very good looking was something she knew made many of the girls and even ladies in Winterfell swoon with delight whenever he walked around the castle. She remembered Ser Gerion reading stories to herself and her siblings as well as Prince Tommen when they were all younger, and how he would do all the scenes himself, and the delight they would all get. Yes she would miss him whilst he was away. Tommen’s cousin Tyrek was a sweet lad, though he was quiet, he was always with Tommen and Robb and Jon plotting mischief, and that he had the typical Lannister looks, tall with blond hair and green eyes she knew had gotten the eye of more than one girl in Winterfell. And then there was Tommen, her prince, her golden stag. Tommen was charming, courageous and very good with a sword, he was like a knight of a song, but he was also a joker who liked to play all kinds of pranks on anyone and everything. He had been slightly chubby as a boy, but had grown out of that and had grown tall and muscular, and by the gods was he attractive, but that was not something she could think, he was like a brother to her, not a potential husband.

Of course that couldn’t stop her gazing at him appreciatively as she saw him walking towards her. Her prince of course stopped then and with a charming smile japed. “See something you like my lady?”

She knew this game well. “Why no of course not my prince. I just see a boy who thinks he is the world. His head is too big for his shoulders. How he continues walking I will never know.”

Tommen smirks then. “And were you not looking at said boy just moments ago wishing you could have him my lady? I could have sworn you were?”

“Oh gods no,” Sansa says in mock horror. “I would rather have the stable boy than the boy who stands before me. At least the stable boy has some sense of decency.”

Tommen’s grin gets wider and his voice is soft when he says. “I will be sure to tell Serwyn that when I see him next. Who knew the darling of Winterfell had a thing for stable boys. Quite scandalous do you not think my lady? Whatever would your father and mother say?”

Sansa plays along. “I am sure they would be happy I have found someone to care for who is not a rogue, like the prince who stands before me. Not everyone falls for the golden stag you know. It is quite sad.”

Tommen laughs then, a booming laugh that leaves her feeling warm inside. “Oh my lady you wound me, I had thought you knew me better than that. I am the very soul of chivalry and the very heart of honour.”

Sansa’s eyebrow raises in mock surprise. “Truly? I heard about the prank you played on Theon. That was not very chivalrous of you my prince leaving a bucket of water to pour out on poor Theon. A true knight would have warned him of it.”

Tommen laughs even louder at that, and Sansa can feel the warmth inside her increasing. “Oh come off it Sansa, surely you do not believe that? Theon, spare Theon when we both know he would delight in pranking us both? Not a chance. We got him back and we got him good. You should have seen him, he was dripping wet with water, so much so that even Jeyne Poole started laughing and you know how much she makes the moon eyes at Theon.”

“She does not make moon eyes at Theon Tom!” Sansa protests on her friend’s behalf. “She merely thinks he is a nice man who is kind to her. They are friends that is all.”

Her prince seems somewhat surprised by this and asks. “How can anyone be friends with him? He’s an idiot and a cur. The less we all had to do with him, the fewer problems there would be. I keep telling Robb that, but he does not listen.”

She sense something akin to hurt in her prince’s voice and she knows he and Robb have been arguing again, she moves from her post and walks toward him putting her hand on his arm and saying softly. “Robb loves Theon like a brother just as he does you. He would defend you both to the ends of the world. That does not mean he cannot see where the fault lies with Theon.”

Her prince sighs and then pulls her hand into his and squeezes. “I know that Sans, but still there is something not right about Theon. And I am not just saying that because I do not like him. There truly is something wrong with him.”

She squeezes his hand back and then says. “I know Tom. But we can’t do anything until Theon himself does something.”

They are both silent then and Sansa looks into her prince’s eyes and she feels her heart begin to beat quicker, her prince is about to speak when she hears Arya calling. “Sansa, come on we need to get ready for the meal tonight.” Very quickly she and Tommen pull apart and Sansa tries to get her heart under control, she looks at her prince whose cheeks are red and says. “Till tonight my prince.” Her prince bows and kisses her hand before walking away. Sansa takes a few moments to collect herself and then turns and walks to where her sister is waiting for her. Arya gives her a knowing look but says nothing and they walk to their rooms where they spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready.

Though it is just a normal meal, mother decided that they should all wear their more formal gowns as a sort of early celebration of Tommen’s nameday and so as Sansa puts on her dress she wonders whether or not her prince will find her beautiful or not, whilst also wondering why she keeps thinking about that. She gets compliments from her mother, from Jeyne Poole and from Septa Mordane even Arya compliments her on how beautiful she looks. But it is her prince’s face when she walks into the hall for the meal that truly makes her blush.

“You…you look lovely Sansa.” Tommen stutters.

Sansa curtsies and tries to hide her happiness. “Thank you my prince. You look very handsome yourself.” She sits next to him then and there is some sort of tension between them whilst they eat but after the beginning course she feels her prince’s hand brush hers and before he can pull away she takes hold of his hand and twines their fingers together.

Her prince looks at her then and smiles shyly, and he looks so handsome then that Sansa feels her heart begin to flutter. Of course Arya has all kinds of questions for her prince. “Are you excited to see your family again Tom?” Arya asks before taking a bite out of the chicken.

“Yes Arya I am.” Her prince replies looking toward her out of the corner of his eye.

“Is your father the king a lot like you? Is he like he was during the war with the Targaryens?” Arya asks.

“I do not know. I think so.” Her prince replies sounding unsure, she squeezes his hand under the table reassuringly.

“What is your brother like? Is he like you as well? Do you think he will want to spar with me?” Arya asks.

“Why on earth would the crown prince want to spar with you Arya? You’re a girl.” Sansa snaps.

Her sister looks at her as if she’s got two heads. “Tommen spars with me, Bran spars with me. Robb and Jon spar with me. Why would the crown prince not want to spar with me? Surely if he’s Tommen’s twin he’d be more interested in sparring than in talking about sewing and songs.”

Before Sansa can snap back at her sister, her prince says. “I am sure my brother will want to do everything when he gets here Arya. There is no need to get too excited though.”

“And what about your sister do you think she’d want to spar with me as well?” Arya asks.

“Arya stop asking so many questions and give Tommen a chance to eat and enjoy his food.” Mother says.

Her sister sheepishly apologises and the table is silent for a while until they all begin speaking to one another about this, that and the other. Sansa feels giddy that she is still holding hands with her prince, and that neither of them appear to want to let go. When her father clears his throat they all go silent. “Thank you all for coming, thank you for the food Gage it is delightful as ever. This meal tonight is special, for it is a celebration of Prince Tommen’s nameday before his actual nameday. Which might be unusual but with the royal family coming, this will be the last time we can all sit and eat like this as one big happy family. Tommen, my prince, I must say I am very proud of the man you have become, a man who is not only good with a sword, but is charming, honourable and chivalrous. You are like a son to me and I thank the gods that you fostered here.”

There is a round of applause at that, and Sansa looks at her prince and sees he is brimming with pride. She squeezes his hand in happiness, and feels her heart fluttering. Her prince speaks then. His voice loud and clear. “Thank you Lord Eddard. Thank you for allowing me into your home and for allowing me to grow up with your children. I am honoured to name you and Lady Catelyn as part of my family. And I am proud to have grown up here.” Her prince stops then and with his free hand raises his cup. “To Winterfell, and to the long summer.”

The whole hall echoes her prince, and whilst others are standing up and preparing to dance, her prince leans in and whispers. “And to you my lady Sansa, the beautiful winter rose.” Sansa shivers in delight.


	3. The Laughing Lion

**4 th Month of 298 A.C. Casterly Rock**

**Ser Gerion Lannister**

It had been sometime since he was in Casterly Rock, some eight years or so. When news had come that his great nephew Prince Tommen was to be heading north to foster in Winterfell, Gerion had volunteered to go north with the lad bringing his nephew Tyrek with him as well. At the time he had wanted to get his nephew away from Tywin and his whole Lannister image obsession, and after all these years he thinks he has done the right thing, whilst his nephew was quiet he had certainly developed into a more rounded individual than he would have done under Tywin. When he thought back to the events that had led to them all coming to this point in time he had to laugh, after all the slights his brother had suffered under Aerys he had finally gotten his daughter as Queen. The one issue that truly irked Gerion about it all was that his brother had gotten his desire through a very basic treachery, the sack of King’s Landing. The image of Princess Elia and her children, no more than babes wrapped in cloaks still haunted him to this day. He had argued with his brother about that, and his brother had told him he was being a child. That what had been done was for the good of the realm and the good of their house.

Gerion could still remember the day word had come of the Tourney of Harrenhal, Gerion had thought his brother would go to the tourney simply to get close to Prince Rhaegar and try to get Cersei as the boy’s second wife, but Tywin had refused to attend especially after they had all learnt that Aerys was going to attend. After that, things quickly went south for the Targaryens, Rhaegar absconded with Lyanna Stark, Brandon Stark came calling demanding Rhaegar come out and die, and his father came to answer for his crimes only to die alongside him. Aerys had called for the heads of Eddard and Robert Baratheon but instead of handing them over Jon Arryn rebelled. This had all happened in the year of the false spring and by the time Robert was crowned King in King’s Landing, Gerion had celebrated his twenty seventh nameday in the two hundred and eighty second year after Aegon’s conquest. The rebellion had been well planned and executed, and Gerion had respected Eddard Stark and Jon Arryn upon meeting them. Robert Baratheon had quickly become a drinking friend and they had explored the taverns of King’s Landing fairly frequently.

After his niece had become Queen, Gerion had drifted from King’s Landing and Casterly Rock, sometimes he would drink with Robert when in King’s Landing other times he would search the library of the Red Keep looking for old scrolls about Valyrian steel. And whilst he was in the Rock, well he would search every nook and cranny of the place looking for clues as to where Brightroar could be, once or twice he had thought he had found the sword, but then had discovered that they were only other swords not the one he coveted. And then just as he was going to wonder what to do with his life, Tygett had died and left a young son whom Gerion had quickly taken to caring for, and that was when he had met Briony, who was a girl from Lannisport who had become Tyrek’s wetnurse. They had fallen in love and though Gerion had known they could never marry that had not stopped him from loving her and the babe that had come from their union. Joy, was just that, the joy of his life, and the fact he had not been able to see her all these years hurt him more than he could say.

Of course it seemed his brother knew that and was deliberately dangling it over his head to get him to say what he wanted to hear. “Tell me brother, how does my grandson progress? Is he a true Lannister?” Tywin asked his voice stern.

Gerion looked around his brother’s solar, which had once been his father’s and responds. “Tommen is more Baratheon than Lannister for all he looks like a young Jaime. He is proud of his Baratheon roots and openly tries to emulate his father in terms of his prowess with a weapon.”

“That is all well and good, but what of his mind? Is he quick and clever? Would he be accepted by the lords?” Tywin asks.

“He is smart yes brother. But I do not think he has any interest in doing anything other than fighting and having a keep somewhere where he can have a wife and children. He does not seem to be too ambitious.” Gerion responds.

“He is a Lannister as well as a Baratheon, of course he has ambition. Otherwise you have not been doing your role properly.” His brother replies sternly.

Gerion groans internally. “He does have ambitions yes, but I do not think they lean toward gaining some significant lordship. More than likely he wants to be the best swordsman of his generation. He trains harder than Jaime ever did, and he is likely better than Jaime was at his age.”

“But he will not be knighted in the north. The north do not have knights. He would need to come south for that to happen.” His brother counters

“Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard is there with him. Ser Arys can knight him. I do not know why you are so insistent that Tommen come south to the Rock. He is happy in the north, let him stay there for some more time. Besides he cannot inherit, Tyrion is your heir whether you like it or not brother. Perhaps it is time you recognised that?” Gerion says.

His brother’s eyes go stormy then though his voice remains eerily calm. “Tyrion is many things, but he is not a true Lannister. His actions continue to shame this house. His whoring, drinking and gambling are a disgrace. He would never be accepted as Lord of the Rock.”

“He is not father, Tywin. He has brains, he has wits and he is smart, more than just book smart. He knows the way of the world. He would make a brilliant Lord of the Rock. Better than Jaime by far.” Gerion says softly.

He looks at Tywin then and he can see the pure loathing in his brother’s eyes. “Clearly the northern air has made you lose your wits. Jaime has more desirable characteristics than Tyrion has. Now unless you have something more useful to say then you may leave.” Gerion rises then but before he gets to the door his brother says. “When you return north make sure you speak to Tommen, make him see the benefits of being interested in his Lannister heritage. I do not want the future Lord of the Rock not knowing anything of his heritage.” Gerion nods and then walks out of the room.

Gerion stands there for a moment wondering why it is that every time he speaks with his brother he feels like washing. Sighing he walks from his brother’s solar towards where his daughter’s room is. He knocks once and when his daughter says he can enter he does. His breath is momentarily taken away by how beautiful she looks. She has her mother’s dark brown hair and his green eyes. One and ten namedays old, he knows she will be turning heads when she has flowered. His daughter stands then and hugs him. “Hello sweetling,” he says into her hair. “I hope I did not interrupt you?”

His daughter shakes her head and then looks up at him with her piercing green eyes. “Of course not papa. I was just reading about King Tommen the second. The king who last had Brightroar.”

“Oh?” Gerion asks intrigued. “And what do your books say about him?”

His daughter is silent a moment as she often is when she has to think hard. “They say he was a good king, a just king who helped beat the Reacher lords and the Ironmen. And that he was well loved by his people. He was married to a Stark papa, did you know that?”

“I did not no.” Gerion responds though he thinks it fitting.

“Yes, he was married to a Princess Sansa Stark, as part of an alliance between Casterly Rock and Winterfell to throw back the Ironborn. It is said he was a very handsome man and that his wife was very lovely the envy of every woman in the Westerlands. They were very happy together, and it was glory that made King Tommen sail to Valyria. But before he left, he gave his wife Brightroar and asked her to keep it safe for his return. He never did return, but Queen Sansa kept it with her and when his brother Norwin tried to find the sword she hid it in a place where no one would find it.” His daughter says.

Gerion nods. “Fascinating my dear. Well I am delighted to say that you will be meeting Sansa Stark soon.”

The look of delight on his daughter’s face makes him smile. “Truly father? You are not just saying that? I am coming to Winterfell?”

“Yes my sweetling you will be coming with me to Winterfell when I return.” Gerion responds.

His daughter hugs him again but then asks. “Will Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn be okay with me being there though father? They would not take offence?”

Gerion smiles reassuringly at his daughter. “Of course not, they are both kind people and they have said they have no problems with you being there.”

His daughter hugs him tightly then and says. “Thank you papa, thank you. I love you papa!”

Gerion kisses his daughter then and laughs. “I love you too sweetling. And I have one more thing that will make you even more excited.”

“And what is that papa?” Joy asks.

“I know where we can find Brightroar sweetling.” Gerion replies.

His daughter’s eyes widen then. “Truly papa? You do?” his daughter asks excitedly.

“Yes sweetling,” Gerion says nodding his head. “It is here, within the Rock.”

“Here?” Joy asks. “It is here? Where in the Rock is it papa?”

“Come with me and you will see.” Gerion says.

“What about uncle Tywin? Will he not want the sword if you find it papa?” Joy asks.

Gerion looks at his daughter then and kisses her again. “Of course he would sweetling, but we are not going to him find out we have the sword.”

“How so papa?” Joy asks.

“Well put your travel cloak on sweetling and then come with me.” Gerion says. His daughter complies and then they are walking as quickly as they both can through the halls and then down the stairs into the vaults. The vaults have always taken his breath away, filled with all kinds of riches, he stares in wonder at some of them before his daughter tugs on his hand, and he blinks and then pulls her with him until they go deeper and deeper into the Rock.

When they come to the vault where the lions lie in guard, he stops and looks at his daughter then. “Do you have the key that I gave you before I left for Winterfell sweetling?”

“Yes papa, I always keep it on me, why?” Joy asks.

“Give me the key sweetling. To get to Brightroar, we must open the vault, and the key I gave you opens vault.” Gerion responds.

His daughter looks at him in surprise, and then takes out the key, the key as with everything in the damned castle has lions on it. He takes the key from his daughter and walks toward the vault and places the key in place, there is a moment where nothing happens and Gerion worries that perhaps he has gotten it wrong, but then the vault groans and then moves backward and opens.  Gerion looks at his daughter and smiles, and then takes her hand and leads her into the vault. He hears his daughter gasp when they enter, and he is not surprised. The vault is filled with sparkling objects, crowns, swords, axes all kinds of weapons, letters, scrolls and books. Everything the Lannisters have collected over the years, he looks at his daughter and smiles, and then says. “Come with me sweetling if I am correct the sword should be somewhere in the middle.”

His daughter looks around the vault her mouth open in amazement, Gerion chuckles slightly but leads her to where the letters he has read say the sword should be, after walking past many beautiful weapons and picking up two gold bands that he knows were worn by the first princes of the Rock, there in the middle of a lot of golden cups and golden coins he sees a golden lion’s head glittering in the light. And somehow, he knows not how, but somehow he knows that this is it, this is the sword. he and his daughter walk towards it and when they get to where the golden lion’s head is he stands and stares, the sword, for that is what it must be, it has to be the sword, is buried deep underneath the mountain of other golden items. He looks at his daughter and then smiles, then grasps the handle of the sword which is red in colour and pulls the sword out of the pile. The sword is in its scabbard, a red and golden scabbard with lions on it, holding the scabbard deferentially in his left hand he puts his right hand on the hilt and draws the sword out. The sword is heavy as only a great sword could be, he stares at the sword in wonder, the sword glimmers in the light of the vault, rubies encrusted into the top beneath the hilt, and the curve of the sword makes Gerion shiver, finally after all this time he has found Brightroar. He sheathes the sword then and looks at his daughter and sees the deferential way his daughter is looking at the sword. “It’s beautiful isn’t it my sweetling.” Gerion says.

“Yes papa very beautiful. But how are we going to get out of here without uncle Tywin knowing?” Joy asks.

Gerion is silent a moment and then goes. “There are steps underneath the tomb of the first Lannister King Sweetling. We shall take those steps and end up at Lannisport and from there we shall take a ship to Seagard and Tywin will be none the wiser.”

His daughter nods and then asks. “How will you carry the sword papa?”

Gerion simply takes the sword in its scabbard and straps it to his back. “Like this sweetling. Now come let us go, and do not forget to take the circlets.” His daughter nods and then they begin the long walk out of the vault past the books, and golden crowns and coins and then out of the vault, where Gerion stops turns round and then takes the key from the slot in the vault, thus closing the vault. From there they continue onward, walking up the slope and then up the stairs where before they went down the stairs and soon enough they come to the crypts where the Lannisters are buried.  Gerion walks with one hand on his daughter’s shoulders counting the number of Lannisters they walk past, and when they come to the tomb and statue of King Loreon Lannister, Gerion pushes against the statue and then steps back as the statue swings to the left. Steps come into sight, but before he descends, Gerion takes one of the torches from their place on the wall and then gestures for his daughter to enter first. Once she is in, he follows and then turns behind him to make sure the statue closes, once it is closed they begin their descent down into darkness. As they walk Gerion cannot help but keep touching the scabbard to make sure that the sword is still there, after all this time, he finally has the sword and his brother will never get it. A Lannister always pays their debts, and now a true warrior will get the sword.


	4. A Welcoming Party

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

It had been a long month without his uncle there to provide constant entertainment and advice. They had managed to do some things that were fun, but truly he was happy to have his uncle back. Even if his uncle was somewhat sad that he had not been able to find Brightroar, something Tommen if he was being true to himself was not surprised about, the sword had been lost long ago when his own namesake had set sail for Valyria, the chances of it being in Casterly Rock were very slim, very, very slim. Of course there was one good thing to come of his uncle’s trip to the Rock, his cousin Joy had come with him on his journey back north, and for that Tommen was happy. His cousin lived up to her name and was a delight to be around, she was full of life always asking questions and playing about. She got along famously with Arya and even with Sansa, and for that Tommen was glad, gods knew Arya needed someone to be friends with. As for Jon, well Tommen smiled smugly as he thought about Jon and Joy, it was obvious his cousin had feelings for his friend, and yet Jon was oblivious, he would not be for long though, for Joy would soon flower and when she did, Tommen knew she would be a beauty.

He was happy for his uncle, it was clear Gerion was much happier now that Joy was here, but of course more of their family, or rather his family were coming. Indeed, Tommen could see them riding through the gates now the crowned stag of House Baratheon flying proudly coming ever closer. A knight of the Kingsguard and his squire rode beside a big man dressed in a heavy fur cloak, the man had hair black as night and laughing blue eyes, it took Tommen a moment but then he realised with a shock that the man riding in was his father, the king, by the gods had he gotten fat! The man who used to throw him up into the air whilst Tommen laughed gleefully, who looked like the warrior come to life had gone to fat, his beard was thick, but his stomach bulged out of his clothes, and Tommen could not help but feel sad. But he did not have all that much time to look and worry over his father, for next into the grounds was his twin, he knew that it was Joffrey from a long way off, the smug smile the pouty lips already Tommen could feel anger growing inside of him as he remembered Mrs Cruickshanks, and the dead kittens. His brother looked smug as he looked around Winterfell, and Tommen would have hit him for it, had the carriage not come in then. The carriage stopped and Tommen could feel his heart beating quicker and quicker now as he waited, when the door opened and his mother and sister walked out Tommen felt as if his heart was in his throat. He felt something brush his hand and looked down to see Sansa looking at him smiling encouragingly, he quickly grabbed her hand and squeezed before pulling back.

All of Winterfell was silent, as the king walked toward them. On bended knee Tommen looked as his father greeted his foster father with a slight wink and then bid him rise. As Lord Eddard rose so too did Tommen and the others. Tommen smiled as he heard Lord Eddard introduce his father to his family, his smile only grew wider as his father described Sansa as a great beauty, and then when his father came to stand before him Tommen lowered his gaze his heart hammering. “Your Grace.” He says formally.

His father snorts. “None of that Tommen. You are my son and a prince. You do not need to be so formal with me. Come here.” And with that his father envelops him into a bear hug. As Tommen feels the full warmth of his father for the first time in eight years he feels his father’s warm breath against his ear asking. “How have you been my boy?”

“Very well father,” Tommen responds. “Very well.”

His father pulls back then and releases him. “Good, very good. I see Ned and Cat have been feeding you properly. Those are some muscles you have on you lad!” his father proclaims. Tommen blushes slightly and then his father asks. “Which do you prefer more the sword or the war hammer?”

“A sword father.” Tommen says afraid that his father will be disappointed.

His father is silent a moment and then responds. “Very well then. I have been hearing that you are better with a sword than even the Kingslayer.” His father says pointing in the direction of Uncle Jaime.

Tommen blushes. “I do not think I am as good, or anywhere near as good as Uncle Jaime father.”

“Nonsense. You are my son, of course you are. Your uncle is a ponce.” His father roars.

Tommen blushes something fierce then. “Thank you father.”

His father claps him on the shoulder then and Tommen feels his knees almost buckle. “Ned I would pay my respects.” His father says then turning to Lord Eddard.

“It has been a long journey my love, surely we should rest.” His mother says.

“Ned the crypts.” His father says ignoring his mother.

Lord Eddard looks apologetically at his mother and then leads his father down to where the crypts are. Lady Catelyn hurries over then to speak to his mother, but mother merely ignores her and comes over to Tommen, she presses her hand out and he bends down to kiss it. That done she looks up at him and asks. “You are well?”

“Yes mother, and yourself? How was the journey here?” Tommen asks politely, his heart beating against his chest.

“It was long and tiring but it is nice to finally be here. I trust that the Starks have been treating you well?” his mother asks.

Tommen knows Lady Catelyn is standing behind his mother and that the Stark siblings are looking at him still he speaks true when he says. “They have treated me very well mother, very well indeed.”

His mother nods and says. “Very well then, I shall see you tonight at the feast. Lady Catelyn?” and with that his mother departs with Lady Catelyn walking at her heels.

Feeling somewhat deflated after speaking to his mother Tommen looks round the grounds to see Bran and Rickon have disappeared, as has Arya, Myrcella and Sansa are speaking animatedly about something or the other, and Robb and Jon it seems are listening in rapt attention to Ser Jaime and Ser Arys trading stories. He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns round to find himself looking at his brother. Joffrey has their mother’s golden hair, their mother’s green eyes, and a hard look in his eye that he had when they were boys. “Brother,” his brother says simply. “It is good to see you.”

“It is good to see you as well brother. How have you been since last we wrote to one another?” Tommen asks, nerves coming back.

“Well, very well. I started sparring with live steel some four years ago, I believe that was when last we spoke. Since then I have fought Loras Tyrell and others like him and beaten them.” his brother responds.

Tommen is not sure whether or not to believe his brother, but replies. “Ah that is very good brother. What of those squires there by the horses who are they?”

They both look at the gaggle of squires standing next to the horses gazing around Winterfell in wonder. “Oh those?” his brother says pointing at them. “They are my squires, they are my servants. Fools from across the southern kingdoms who have come to do my bidding. Do you have people like that here in Winterfell brother?”

Tommen is slightly taken aback by the venom in his brother’s voice but merely shakes his head. “No brother I do not. I have friends here though plenty of friends.”

His brother looks quite surprised then. “Friends? You have friends amongst these northern savages? Have you gotten soft in the head brother?”

Tommen bristles slightly and says. “I have not gotten soft in the head Joff. But I have grown up here, I had to make friends to make spending time here enjoyable. They are good people these northmen, not savages at all.”

His brother snorts. “Clearly.” His brother then looks at Jon and Robb who are speaking to Ser Jaime and Ser Arys animatedly. “Those two, they are Stark’s sons correct?”

“Yes brother, why do you ask?” Tommen asks.

“They are your friends yes?” his brother asks and Tommen nods. Joffrey then looks hard at him then. “Be careful of them brother. You might have grown up here, but you are not one of them. The Starks and the northmen are savages no matter that they might wear clothes where the wildlings do not. You would be wise not to trust them.”

Before Tommen can respond though Myrcella and Sansa appear by their side. Sansa curtsies. “Your Grace.” She says.

“Is this the Lady Sansa whom my brother writes about so much?” Joffrey asks smiling.

Tommen feels something in his stomach sink. “Yes brother, this is Lord Eddard’s eldest daughter, the Lady Sansa.” Tommen responds.

His brother takes Sansa’s hand then and bends down to kiss it, when his brother pulls back he is still smiling a smile that Tommen calls his viper’s smile. “My brother did not do you Justice Lady Sansa. He said you were pretty, but he did not say that you were the most beautiful maiden in the realm. Truly you are, and I am honoured to be in your presence.”

Sansa blushes then. “Thank you Your Grace. You are very handsome yourself.”

His brother smiles. “You honour me with your compliment, my lady. Would you mind showing me around Winterfell? I would ask Tom, but I think it would be more appropriate if you did it.”

Sansa looks at him a moment before looking back to Joffrey, her cheeks are still slightly red but she says. “Of course Your Grace, I would be honoured to.” And with that she takes his brother’s arm and with the Hound walking behind them they set off for a tour.

As Tommen watches Joffrey walk off with Sansa, he cannot but feel as if his stomach is in knots. Robb and Jon are still speaking to Uncle Jaime and Ser Arys, but Myrcella is stood by his side. Sighing he turns to her and hugs her. “How have you been Cella?” he asks when he pulls away.

Cella is beginning to look more like mother, at three and ten she is a beautiful girl. She smiles though where mother did not. “I have been well brother. And I know you have as well. The journey here was interesting, we stopped off at Darry on the way here and you should have seen the tension between father and Lord Raymun, it would have been funny if it were not so scary. And then we stopped off at the Twins. Lord Walder truly is a horrible man. And he has so many children! We sat Moat Cailin as well.”

“It is impressive isn’t it Cella.” Tommen asks.

“Oh very much so, it looks a lot grander than how you made it sound in your letters Tom!” Cella says.

Tommen laughs then. “I could not give it all away Cella, you have to discover somethings by yourself.”

She smiles then. “So tell me brother have you explored anything of Winterfell and its people since you have been here?”

Tommen looks at his sister and then laughs when he sees her raised eyebrow. “You always were a sly one weren’t you Cella? A true knight never tells.”

His sister looks at him then and says. “You are a bore Tom, truly.”

He laughs then and says. “I might be a bore, but at least I can introduce to Robb. You two will get along very nicely.”

And with that he leads her to where Robb and Jon are conversing, no doubt about whom is the better fighter.


	5. A Feast

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Jon Snow**

Walking into the great hall had been an interesting experience for Jon. Normally when they had such formal occasions he would walk in with either Alys Karstark or Jorelle Mormont on his arm, but because it was the royal family were here he had walked in with Joy Hill, Ser Gerion’s bastard daughter.  Before the feast Tom had been mercilessly mocking him because of some supposed attraction Joy had for him, he had laughed it off at the time, but then they had walked in together and Jon had seen how the girl had looked at him, the way Tom often looked at Sansa and he had felt quite uncomfortable. There were several other things he had noticed during the entrance into the Great Hall, Robb had been partnered with Myrcella Baratheon, Tom’s sister and Jon had seen as only a bastard could see just how sickly those two were together, and he knew, he just knew that those two would end up together. And then there was Sansa walking in with Joffrey, the prince had looked quite dashing, and Sansa looked beautiful as always, his sister had been smiling and laughing at what Joffrey had been saying and Jon knew Tommen would not have reacted well to that.

As for the royal family well, Jon had to admit he was somewhat disappointed by the King. He had grown up listening to the tales his father had told him and Robb and when he had joined them Tommen, of King Robert Baratheon the first of his name, of how he had beaten Rhaegar Targaryen, of how he had been the warrior come to life. And now the man sat next to father was fat, so very fat, and was roaringly drunk already and the beginning course had only just been taken away. The queen whilst beautiful looked cold, she looked as if she hated being here and as if she hated them all, she did not have the same warmth Lady Catelyn had. Prince Joffrey, the crown prince looked handsome and there were some similarities between him and Ser Jaime, they both had blonde hair, they both had green eyes and they were both lithe of build with an easy smile. Princess Myrcella looked like her mother in miniature but had none of the queen’s coldness, she was all smiles and warmth. Then there was Tom, his old friend and sparring partner, Jon had lost count of the number of times he had heard either father or Lady Catelyn or even Ser Gerion describe Tommen as being like King Robert in his youth, and yet Jon looked at Tom and could only see the Kingslayer. Yes Tommen was muscular and laughed as easily as King Robert, but he had blond hair and green eyes just like his twin, and there was a way he held himself, a certain confidence to his bearing that reminded Jon of the Kingslayer.

A bastard had the time to observe all these things, a bastard was not expected to make small talk with the King and his family, Jon thought bitterly. Normally he would sit at the High Table and eat and drink with his family and Tom, and there would be no problem, even if they had a guest from one of the northern houses. He was part of the family but because Maester Luwin had worried that that his presence there might well offend the queen and the royal family, Jon knew Lady Catelyn had wanted to argue that point, but father had conceded that it might be unseemly and so here he was sat along with the squires, Joffrey’s and those in Winterfell, eating and drinking, trying not to let the bitterness overwhelm him when he heard a familiar voice. “You might not want to drink so much Jon.”

He turns round and sees his uncle Benjen standing there smiling. He smiles and stands and embraces his uncle. “Uncle Benjen! When did you get here?”

“A few moments ago lad, I had just given my horse to Hullen when I thought I would come to see my favourite nephew.” His uncle replies. “So how have you been lad?”

Jon smiles slightly, the wine filling him with warmth. “I am well thank you uncle. And you?”

His uncle shrugs. “Glad to be back in the warmth. It is damned cold at the Wall lad, I tell you. Don’t ever think of joining, you’ll regret it, and likely die of boredom and the cold.”

Jon laughs then. “But I thought the wall was some fun? Surely it must be? After all there was the deserter father executed who was talking about Others and darkness. Was he rambling or are the wildlings truly coming south?”

His uncle’s face goes serious then. “Oh yes the others are coming in great numbers, with snarks and grumpkins.” His uncle laughs then. “No that man your father executed was mad, the cold would have done that to him. But there is truth in the wildlings coming south. I mean to speak to your father about it and I also mean to ask the king for aid.”

They both look at the High Table then and see the king pull a serving maid into his lap. “Good luck with that uncle. If the king knows where he is in a minute, you might stand a chance.”

His uncle roars with laughter and then asks. “But what are you doing here? Did you do something bad again Jon? Been causing Catelyn trouble?”

Jon shakes his head. “No I could understand if it was that, but Maester Luwin told father it might not be appropriate if I sat at the high table tonight and father agreed. He agreed rather quickly as well for some reason.”

His uncle looks up at father then and then looks back at him and then says softly. “Well do not despair lad, it looks as if Prince Tommen is about the change your seating arrangement.”

Jon is about to ask his uncle what he means when he sees Tommen walking down from the High Table towards him, a swagger in his step. All eyes in the hall are following Tommen, and Jon wonders what his friend is doing, he looks up at the High Table and sees father and Lady Catelyn looking somewhat surprised, the King is too drunk to notice and the queen is staring icily at him. And then his friend stands before him, he can smell the ale on Tom’s breath but still his friend holds himself well and in his booming voice asks. “Jon, what on earth are you doing here with my brother’s squires? Why aren’t you eating with the rest of us?”

All eyes are on him now including his uncle’s and he blushes somewhat. “It would not be right my prince. I am a bastard not a noble.”

His friend in echo of King Robert responds. “Nonsense. You are Lord Eddard’s son, bastard or no, and you are my friend, my best friend you deserve a place on the table with us. That is your rightful place, not down here with the shits.” Before Jon can protest Tommen has grabbed his hand and is pulling him up to where the King is sat having removed the maid from his lap staring at his son and Jon. “Father,” Tommen asks. “May Jon sit with us at the High Table?”

King Robert is silent a moment and then he slurs. “Jon?” he looks at Jon then and says. “By the gods he looks like you Ned.” Jon hears the murmurs begin and sees Lady Catelyn blink slightly. “Well of course he can sit with us. Bugger convention. Come have a seat boy.”

A long silence follows that and then Jon follows Tommen and sits beside his friend but also next to Prince Joffrey. The crown prince who had been speaking to Sansa turns and says. “Well now we all have a bit of snow in our food, are you happy brother?”

Jon blushes something furious then but instead of snarking Tommen merely replies. “Snow will always be better than weasel brother, it does not smell half as bad.” And with that they resume eating.

The food tastes so much better on the high table than it does down with the squires, and Jon is convinced that is deliberate, still he will not complain he eats the food gratefully and then turns to Tom and whispers. “You did not have to do that Tom, I would have been fine sat with the squires.”

“Nonsense.” His friend surprisingly softly. “You are my friend and a son of Winterfell, regardless of what some shit of a maester says your place is here. Now eat and enjoy.”

Before Jon can respond the crown prince speaks. “Yes it was very noble of my brother, I do thoroughly agree with him, you are a son of Winterfell Jon, and your place is here.”

“Thank you, my prince.” Jon responds.

“No need to thank me Jon, it is only right, is it not mother?” the prince calls to his mother, who is sat next to Lady Catelyn on the other side of the high table.

The queen is silent a moment and then responds. “Yes if one wants to have snow in one’s food and drink. There are standards one must meet and we cannot fail to live up to those standards don’t we Jon Snow?”

The queen’s tone makes Jon shiver slightly and makes him feel like a little boy again. His voice is soft when he says. “Yes Your Grace.”

The King speaks then. “So tell me Jon, do you fight? Have you fought with my son before?”

Jon is silent a moment, and then says. “Yes Your Grace, many a time. He is a very good swordsman.”

“Good, and has he ever fought with a hammer?” the king asks.

Jon turns to look at Tom and then says softly. “Yes Your Grace.”

“Good. A true king should fight with all weapons.” The king says.

Jon sees the crown prince stiffen then but then the moment passes, and before Jon can respond Joffrey speaks. “Yes well my father has had his say now. But yes Jon, if you do wish to spend some time with myself and my squires we would be more than happy to show you how to fight with true steel.”

Jon is quite tempted by the offer and is about to reply when the king gets to his feet he sways slightly. “Ned stand up will you!” the king slurs. Jon sees his father stand and wonders what is about to happen. “It is with great happiness that I announce the fulfilment of a betrothal that has been long standing. My son and the heir to the Iron Throne Prince Joffrey is to be betrothed to Lord Eddard’s daughter Lady Sansa. When the lady Sansa is ten and six they shall marry. This betrothal will bring House Baratheon and House Stark closer together and it will also make sure that a marriage that should have happened many years ago will now be fulfilled.”

The hall erupts into cheers, and whilst Jon feels happy for Sansa who is clearly delighted if the smile on her face is anything to go by, he also feels somewhat sad, because he knows that she will be a woman grown next time he sees her. By his side Tommen has stiffened noticeably, and he wants to say something, but before he can he hears the crown prince say his name. “Jon,”

Jon turns to look at the crown prince and then asks. “Yes my prince?”

“Do you not have any congratulations to offer me and your sister?” the prince asks.

Jon blushes slightly. “Sorry. Congratulations my prince, Sansa. I am sure you two will both be very happy with one another.” He is about to say more but Tommen stands up and walks out of the hall.

Before Jon can go and speak with him though, the crown prince speaks once more. “Leave my brother be Jon. No doubt the ale has gotten to his head. He is not as hardened at drinking as he had me believe. Sit and stay a while.”

Jon feels torn he wishes to go after Tommen and see if he is alright, but he does not want to be rude to the crown prince and so he sits down. The prince smiles at him then and says. “I am sorry for how my mother spoke to you how she did earlier.  She has had a tiring journey and it is likely getting to her.”

“It is no bother Your Grace truly.” Jon says.

“No, no it is not. No one should have to take such comments. If anyone, and I do mean anyone ever speaks to you like that again you come to me and tell me and I shall deal with them.” the prince says.

Jon is speechless at this, he looks at the prince and then says. “Thank you my prince, I will keep that in mind.”

Joffrey smiles then and says. “Good now if you want, tomorrow I can have you spar with Ser Jaime. I am sure he would not begrudge you some time.”

“Thank you… my prince….I do not know what to say.” Jon stammers.

“Just accept and that is all the thanks I need.” The prince says smiling.

 

 

 

 


	6. Waiting Prince

**5 th Month of 298 A.C., Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

The feast had been eventful, to say the least. His father had gotten roaringly drunk during the feast, and had acted most inappropriately, Tommen had been slightly embarrassed but also amused by his father’s antics. His mother on the other hand had looked like ice death through all of it, not truly having any conversation with anyone other than on occasion Uncle Jaime. There was some sort of tension between his father and mother that much was obvious to Tommen, but why the tension was there he was not sure. His brother had spent the evening speaking to Sansa, his sweet Sansa who had lapped up all the lies his brother had spoken, he felt betrayed by that, his brother was a charmer yes that much was true, but surely Sansa was not stupid enough to believe everything he said. Beating the knight of flowers in the sparring yard, pah. Myrcella had been besotted by Robb as his friend had been by her and they had spent the night talking away. Tommen had been happy for that, it had provided some sense of joy from the darkness that had been growing inside of him. It had taken him some time, but after his third or fourth cup of ale he had gotten up and brought Jon up to the High Table, it was only fair he thought, his friend was more than Joffrey was. And yet Joffrey had charmed Jon gods damn him.

And then had come the announcement that had so angered him. His brother was to marry Sansa. His brother was to be marrying Sansa, and gods it hurt even now to think of it. He had seen just how smug his brother had looked when father had made that announcement and it had made him sick. Whether it was the ale or something else, he knew not, but he knew he could not remain there and see Sansa making the eyes at Joffrey, whilst his brother lapped up the applause. He had congratulated them both quietly and then left the hall as quickly as he could. After he had gotten out of the hall he had gone to where he knew he could seek release and escape and so had spent the remainder of the feast there. Drinking and trying not to think of how beautiful Sansa had looked during the feast, and how angry he was that it was his brother and not he who she was betrothed to. The thoughts circled round in his mind, along with other thoughts, thoughts that Sansa was like a sister to him, and that he should not be angry but happy for her. Gods it was so confusing.

A hand on his shoulder drew him away from his thoughts. He turns to see his brother standing there, his dog standing behind him. “Brother why do you look so glum on this fine morning? Is it because we are still in the north and not back home just yet?”

“No, brother it is not because of that.” Tommen says. “But I did want to know what Jon is doing with your squires and why were you so interested in him at the feast yesterday?”

As he says this he hears a laugh and turns back round to see Jon laughing with someone he believes to be Tywin Frey. His brother sighs and says. “I was being nice to him Tommen. He is your friend, and I wanted to make sure he was a decent fellow. You are a prince, you cannot be associated with bad people, and it looks bad on the family. And besides my squires might not be the best of people but they would not lead Jon astray.”

Tommen looks at Hendry Bracken then and then back at his brother. “Are you sure? I could have sworn Bracken was fighting with a Karstark man yesterday. How can such a lad be in your company?”

He hears his brother sigh once more and then Joffrey replies. “Because his uncle owed father something or the other for causing trouble with Lord Tytos. And so the lad is a hostage for all intents and purposes so long as Lord Jonos behaves he is fine. But he is a good man, a fine fighter.”

Tommen nods and then asks. “And was it true what you said yesterday? Did you speak truly yesterday when you said you beat the Knight of Flowers in a sparring match?”

His brother looks at him then and he can hear the sarcasm in his voice when he responds. “I am the crown prince, the truth is what I make it.”

Tommen looks back at his brother and then says. “There is no honour in lying brother.”

His brother snorts then. “Honour? Honour does not serve a prince well. We have the whole kingdom at our feet Tommen. We cannot put some foolish concept before that. People will believe us and believe we speak the truth simply because of who we are. If you want someone to do something for you, you have to make them believe that they are doing right. If you want something, and someone tries to deny you it, you must do what you can to get it. You are a prince not a peasant.”

 _Is that what you are trying to do to Jon?_ Tommen thinks. Aloud he merely says. “Yes, but as princes surely it is our duty to show the people what is right and what is honourable? Otherwise the realm will fall to chaos.”

His brother snorts then. “Honour, what is honour brother? One man’s honour is another’s foolish mistake. No a prince must do what needs to be done to ensure that people do what they are supposed to do. If that means making a new truth from an old lie, then so be it.”

“I do not know brother. It does not seem like something father would do or approve of.” Tommen responds.

Joffrey laughs then. “What do you think our father knows of ruling brother? He knows nothing. He drinks and shames mother, that is all he does. No mother and the small council are the ones who do the ruling and the kingdom is safe and sound. My squires would do whatever I asked of them, because they believe I am asking them to do the right thing. You have the chance to do something like that with Jon. He is your friend yes, but he is also beneath you, he looks up to you because of what you are. Use that to your advantage, and he will be your man from this day to his dying day.”

Something about this feels completely wrong to Tommen and he responds. “But that would make Jon nothing more than a slave. We are not Targaryens brother, we do not need slaves. Respect and love is how father has kept the lords loyal not through making them his slaves.”

Joffrey snorts. “The only lord who truly loves father is Lord Eddard. The others will fight for father when the war comes because they are scared of him and because they are his slaves. Not because of foolish notions of love. Fear is the true way to keep lords in line.”

“I disagree brother,” Tommen replies but when he sees Sansa walking toward them. “Your betrothed is here brother.”

Joffrey turns then and smiles at Sansa who blushes. He then turns back to Tommen and says. “I shall speak with you later brother.”

Tommen nods and watches as Joffrey speaks to Sansa and causes her to blush and giggle, and he feels his stomach churn. He turns away from them then and turns to look at where Jon and the squires were before, they seem to have disappeared, no doubt heading to the sparring yard. Myrcella and Robb are walking arm in arm, talking and laughing. They look good together, Tommen thinks somewhat bitterly. Everyone has someone apart from him, the second son destined to be forgotten. Before he can sink too far into his pity though he hears a voice. “Why do you look so glum my prince?”

He turns and looks down to see his uncle Tyrion. “Uncle Tyrion! When did you get here? Why were you not at the feast?”

His uncle a short man laughs. “I was there for the beginning of the feast, but I soon found the company tedious. And so I retired early, and ventured out to a brothel. I believe it is called the Peach? And I do believe you are a regular customer there?” Tommen blushes but before he can respond his uncle asks. “But yes, tell me nephew why are you looking so glum?”

Tommen looks at his uncle then and sighs. “I do not know uncle truly I do not. I just…..I just feel as if since the family has come, everything has changed.”

His uncle looks at him a moment and then says. “Of course things would change Tommen. The royal family coming to Winterfell along with half the court is no easy thing. There are things that happen when the royal family go anywhere that mean that normal life just does not exist anymore. One does not simply continue as normal with the royal family present. There are things that must be done, and things that cannot be done. I heard about your bringing of Jon Snow to the high table, a brave move. A very brave move.”

“It was the right thing to do uncle. Jon is a Stark despite his last name. Mother be damned, if she didn’t look like someone had shoved something up her arse half the time she might well enjoy herself more.” Tommen replies.

His uncle roars with laughter then. “Oh Tommen, you do remind me so much of your father. Yes next time you see your mother be sure to say that to her. I am sure she will appreciate it a lot more coming from one of her own children than coming from me.”

Before he can reply another voice comes from behind them. “What will Cersei appreciate more coming from Tom than from you Tyrion?”

Tommen and his uncle both turn round to see Uncle Gerion stood there, decked in blue and gold and smiling smugly. “Oh I was just saying how mother would enjoy herself more if she did not look so disdainful of everything uncle.” Tommen responds.

“That is putting it mildly Tommen, but yes true.” Tyrion says.

Uncle Gerion merely laughs then. “Ah yes. I fear it is too late for my niece, that look will always be on her face now. But yes, Tyrion does ask a valid question Tommen, why do you look so glum. Come now, the sun is shining, your friend and sister are getting along and your brother is betrothed to Sansa Stark. And it seems those shits of squires that Joffrey has have accepted your friend Jon Snow.”

Tommen sighs and says. “That is exactly why I feel like this uncle. I do not trust those squires. There is something off about them. The fact that a Frey and a Bracken are part of the retinue makes me even more nervous.”

He sees both his uncles looking at him and then uncle Tyrion speaks. “Tywin is a good lad. He is a sweet lad, and has nothing of either of his parents or grandparents in him. As for Bracken, well he is a shit, but gods alone know what he is doing there with your friend. He despises his bastard brother.”

“A Bracken who despises his bastard brother why does that not surprise me?” his uncle Gerion says. “No Bracken has liked a bastard relation since Donald Bracken allied with Bittersteel against the Targaryens. There will be hell to pay soon enough.”

“What do you mean by that uncle?” Tommen asks nerves beginning to filter in.

“The Brackens have never liked northmen. Jon is as much a northmen as you can get. Your brother is planning something and what it is I do not know, but it will not be pleasant.” Uncle Gerion responds.

“Do you think that is why he keeps trying to make me see Jon as a slave?” Tommen asks.

Both his uncles look somewhat taken aback by this and his uncle Tyrion says. “This smells of Cersei.”

His uncle Gerion says. “Aye that is more than likely why. We must put an end to it, and soon, otherwise there will be blood spilt.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. The Queen

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Queen Cersei Lannister nee Baratheon**

She disliked the north, it was cold and it was a damned sight poorer than King’s Landing and the south. The people here were complete savages, they did things that the south had long ago given up, and were still fighting to hold onto ways that made them seem backward and barbaric. The Starks were cold as well, grim eyes, long faces, she felt sorry for Catelyn Tully stuck here with that grim faced Lord Stark, and his frozen cock. She supposed it made sense that they had so many children, there was little else for them to do here other than fuck. And of course one of the children was now her son’s betrothed, Sansa, the girl was certainly beautiful, but she could not be the one the witch had said would bring her downfall. The girl was too naïve and stupid by half to be of a real threat. She was sweet and nice, but she had no fire, she would be eaten alive in King’s Landing and how Cersei looked forward to that. She was not good enough for her golden son, no Joffrey deserved better, preferably a Lannister, but the only two girls old enough for him were uncle Stafford’s daughters and they were too much like their mother to be of use to Cersei.

And then there was Tommen, her second son, the son she had not wanted but loved all the same. She had been angry when Robert had decided to send the boy north to Winterfell, she did not want any other children to be raised by the savages, and they were lions not stags, all of them. And yet she did have to admit to herself, that after Tommen had left she had been relieved. The boy had been too much of a handful, he had always wanted her help for something or the other, and she had not been able to devote enough time to Joffrey, to her eldest son, the son who needed her more. With Tommen in the north she had been able to do that, and now Joffrey was the golden prince he was supposed to be. as for Tommen, well Tommen was a disappointment, he was more of a northmen than she thought acceptable, when she had first seen him she had thought he was Jaime as her brother had been in his youth, but then she had heard him speak and seen him act and she was reminded of Robert, and her heart sunk.  She did not know what to make of her second son, but she only hoped it was not too late.

As it was she had seen some of what her eldest son was doing, speaking to that bastard of Eddard Stark’s and she wanted to know why he was degrading himself by associating with the bastard. And so she had asked to speak with him privately in the rooms she had been given by the Starks they were sparse rooms and she despised them but nonetheless they would do their duty. Jaime, her golden twin stood guard inside the room whilst two red cloaks stood guard outside, her golden son was sat opposite her as they ate bread and cheese, and so she began. “Tell me sweetling, why is it that you are allowing the bastard of Winterfell to be part of your squires activities? Surely you know that his presence within your group, will only lower what others think of you? He will encourage bad habits to appear in amongst the squires, and yourself and that is not something you want to happen.”

Her son was silent a moment and then responded. “I am allowing the bastard to be with my squires because I want to teach Tommen a lesson.”

“A lesson? What sort of lesson does your brother need to be taught, that requires you to degrade yourself be associating with a bastard?” Cersei asks.

“He needs to be taught that these people are not our friends they are our slaves. Just like you taught me mother, so too does Tommen need to be taught. He sees the bastard as a friend maybe even a brother, and that is not right. The bastard is nothing more than someone hoping for further advancement in the world, and he can be used. I am trying to show Tommen that.” Her golden son responds.

“And what does this bastard aspire towards?” Cersei asks intrigued. “Do you know?”

“He wishes to be a true Stark. He wants that as his name not Snow, he hungers after it, he craves it. He wants the name of the family his father is from. I know he is willing to do anything to achieve that, and I am the one who can give it to him, I am the crown prince, I will make sure father gets the idea into his head and does it. Or if not father, then I will do it.” Her son responds.

“That is true, but what makes you so sure you can keep this bastard true to your tune?” Cersei asks wanting to see whether her son paid attention to his lessons with her.

“It is simple enough mother. The bastard craves approval, especially from his superiors. I am as far up as it gets without involving father, and as such I wants my approval. I am giving it to him in small amounts, letting him into the squires is one way of showing him I mean what I say.” Her son responds.

“And how has your brother responded to this?” she asks.

“Not well, he seems torn between wanting to allow it to continue and wanting to stop it. There is something wrong with him mother. He sees these people as our equals not as our servants. They will play him for a fool and leave him to dry when it suits them. He needs to realise that.” Her son says.

Cersei has never felt prouder of Joffrey than she does then. “Very good my sweetling, very good. But how are you going to keep the bastard under your thumb, after all they are treacherous in nature.”

Her son smiles then. “No one else will offer him this. Tommen is too much of a Stark boy to ever consider offer the bastard this. Father will do it if I ask him to, and if father does not do it, then father can be removed.”

Cersei considers this and then says. “Very good, very good my sweetling. Your brother is far too under the influence of the Starks, he seems to associate more with them than us. And that is dangerous, Stark might not have the intelligence to use that, but his with certainly does. We cannot allow them to use his love for them against him, we must show him how treacherous they are. Starting with the bastard is a very good idea my sweetling, bastards are known for being the traitors, once the bastard goes for your squires, Tommen will begin to realise just how fickle the Starks are.”

Her son nods eagerly. “I saw that Myrcella and the Stark heir are getting very close to one another. Is that deliberate, or has the Stark boy gotten her under his charm?”

Cersei feels something of a pang when her daughter is mentioned, her daughter looks so much like she did when she was young but there is more naivety there, than Cersei herself ever had. She would protect Myrcella if she could. “I am not sure my sweetling. Why do you ask?”

“Because Robb Stark is a boy, and Myrcella is quite a beautiful girl, there is no reason why we could not use Myrcella as a way to charm Stark and take him away from Tommen and towards us. It would be a harder blow for him because the boy is clearly a true friend to him, without him, Tommen has nothing holding him to Winterfell.” Joffrey responds.

Though she does not quite like the idea of using her daughter like that, she sees the benefit in doing so. “Very well, we shall let Myrcella do what she does best. Let her charm the Stark boy as she would do normally. I shall see what suggestions I can allow to the Stark woman to think of as her own.”

Joffrey nods and then Jaime speaks. “There is one other way you could get the bastard to stay in line.”

“And what is that uncle?” Joffrey sneers.

“The Kingsguard. The boy is a bastard, but he is also a very talented swordsman, offer him the chance to get a knighthood and a place in the Kingsguard and he will be yours.” Jaime replies.

Cersei smiles at her brother, he timed that perfectly, just as they had discussed, she turns to see Joffrey considering this. “Hmmmm, the Kingsguard, yes, yes I like that a lot.”

“Good so we are decided then. Let us venture forth from here to the Great Hall, and one more damnable meal with the Starks.” Cersei says.

She stands then and her son stands with her, and together they walk from the room and out into the hall. As they come towards the pathway to the Great Hall, she sees her uncle Gerion walking toward them, a smile on his face, and she wonders why he is so happy. “Ah well is this not just a wonderful sight. A mother and her son, together. Have you two been plotting something?” he asks.

“What we talk about is none of your business uncle. And besides you did not greet us properly.” Her son responds.

Her uncle presses a hand to his mouth and then says. “Oh my pardons Your Grace, I forgot. You see I thought you were already aware of who you were, and did not need reminding of such facts. But if you wish to be reminded of who you are then by all means ask Ser Jaime behind you.”

Cersei grits her teeth but her son responds. “You cannot speak to me like that Uncle. I am the crown prince, I am your social better, bow and apologise now.”

There is a moment’s silence as her uncle stares at them and they stare at him and then he merely says. “Bowing? You will have to forgive me Your Grace, I am an old man, and my back is not what it once was. Though if you wish for someone to bend to you, Ser Jaime and your dog could bow.”

Her uncle laughs then and she feels her anger growing. Through gritted teeth she asks. “What do you want uncle?”

Her uncle takes on a look of mock offence then and says. “Can an uncle not merely come to speak and walk with his niece? After all it has been a long time since we spoke Cersei. Surely you wish to speak with me?”

“I have no reason to speak with you uncle. There is no pressing need for us to speak. So unless you have something to ask me, be gone.” Cersei responds.

The joviality is still there in her uncle’s voice but the light has left his eyes. “Well, I am sure you have noticed how Jon Snow has begun cavorting around with the squires, your squires Prince Joffrey, and I did find it quite curious. Considering half those squires are people who normally take offence when someone not their equal looks at them.”

Cersei looks at her son then and Joffrey merely responds. “Jon asked to have someone new to spar with and after the disgraceful way the Starks treated him at the feast, I thought it would be good for him to have some new company. He seems to be enjoying the company, and has not voiced a complaint to me.”

Cersei looks at her uncle then and sees the way his eyes begin to narrow. His voice is still jovial when he responds. “Interesting that you say that, for if I recall correctly I seemingly recall you saying to Tommen that the boy was nothing more than a slave. So I am quite surprised that you are now saying that he asked you for some new company.”

Her son begins to founder then and so Cersei says. “Is it so strange that the bastard might well look for some new company in the face of how his family treated him? Truly uncle you are not so stupid, now tell me what you want.”

Her uncle looks at her then and his voice is still jovial when he replies. “Stay away from Jon, and end this betrothal with Sansa, before you come to regret it.” And with that he turns and walks away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Squires

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Jon Snow**

The Crown Prince was different to Tommen, where Tommen was loud, bold and brash, Joffrey was more charming, quiet and thoughtful. Jon had noticed the differences during the feast, whilst Tom was drinking and jesting with his father and with Robb, the crown prince was sat talking quietly to Sansa and making her laugh and blush. Jon was happy for Sansa, she clearly liked the crown prince and it seemed he liked her, he certainly paid her more attention than Tommen did. Tom was more interested in sparring and beating each every single one of his brother’s squires than in actually talking to Sansa, or at least he had been doing that ever since the betrothal had been announced, and Jon found that quite strange. The Crown Prince spoke to Sansa and treated her like a true lady, Tom still treated her like a girl who was ready to play with them, that was where he was going wrong and no matter how many times Jon tried to tell him, Tom would always ignore his advice. There was one way in which the two brothers were similar though, they both had a confident walk to them, and that was where the similarities truly ended.

As for the prince’s squires, they were an interesting lot of people. It seemed Hendry Bracken and Lancel Lannister were the two main squires who led the group. They were both quite bold and talkative and often included Jon in their games and their pranks and truly for the first time that he could recall he felt part of a group, and not just a straggler. There were other squires as well, Tywin Frey a quiet lad who rarely said much, Lucion Lannister a good swordsman but someone who had more lip on him than skill, Lucas Corbray who followed the crown prince around as if he was stuck in a trance, and then there was Mors Rosby the heir to Rosby, a big strapping lad who could take a beating and give as good as he got. They were all quite nice people and Jon liked them, even if Robb and Tommen thought they were somewhat off.

Then there was Theon, the Greyjoy boy had decided to add himself to the group and though they had never really gotten along beforehand, suddenly they found more common interests, and though the crown prince showed more interest in Jon than in Theon he still found time to speak with Theon. It was strange truth be told that something like this would bring him and Greyjoy closer together, where for most of his life he had loathed the lad and all that he stood for. Now they were getting more involved in pranks and games, and often sparring with one another. Theon was a good fighter, but he lacked patience. If he got that, he would be quite unstoppable.

Right now, though, there was something more interesting going on. The squires had decided to walk to the godswood and had begun talking about the various girls and women they had seen about the castle. Hendry Bracken was speaking. “There’s this girl called Ros, she has the biggest teats I have ever seen. By the gods she is good. When she does this thing with her mouth, gods.” The lad groans, and the other squires laugh in appreciation.

“What does she do with her mouth Bracken?” Tywin Frey asks.

Bracken makes this obscene movement with his tongue and his mouth and all the squires and Jon collectively sigh in appreciation. “She really does it like that?” Lucion Lannister asks.

“Aye she does. And by the gods you’d think she’s got a wolf chasing after her, by how quickly she rides you.” Bracken responds.

“Could you not last very long then Bracken? Was she too northern for you?” Theon asks.

“Oh she was telling me about you Greyjoy, how your cock is only an inch big. Is that why you are always jesting about how many women you’ve fucked? Because the more you lie the bigger you think your cock is?” Bracken retorts, the squires all burst out laughing and Jon finds himself joining in.

Greyjoy sputters and then turns on Jon. “What are you laughing at Snow? You are a virgin are you not? Every time we try to take you the brothel you run away like a little baby. What are you afraid of? Have you not got a cock or balls? Or are you afraid they’d fall off the moment a whore touches them?”

There is a collective sigh then and they all look at him then. Jon is silent a moment and then says. “I’d rather be like I am now than have worms crawling inside of me because of a whore I fucked Greyjoy.”

Laughter ensues and Bracken asks. “You got worms Greyjoy? From who?”

“He doesn’t know.” Jon replies laughing. “He’s fucked so many ugly whores to try and make up for his small cock that he caught something. Probably gave it to half of the brothel girls.”

Greyjoy goes to hit Jon but Mors Rosby stands in his way. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The crown prince wants Snow kept safe. Now sit down and shut up, we have somethings we want to tell you Jon.”

With an ominous feeling growing inside of him Jon sits down at the base of a tree as do the other squires. “What do you want to tell me Mors?”

“Well for starters, make sure when the crown prince is here, you either call him ‘my prince’ or ‘Your Grace’ it is only respectful and if you call him anything else and the queen hears? There will be trouble to pay.” Mors responds.

“Even in a place like this where it is unlikely that the queen will hear?” Jon asks surprised.

“Especially in a place like this, there are hears and eyes everywhere. One wrong word and the queen will have you hurt, and not even Prince Joffrey will be able to help you.” Mors responds.

“Mors is exaggerating Jon, you do not need to worry.” The crown prince says suddenly standing there in the clearing, the hound behind him.

They all stand up at that and bow. “Your Grace.” Jon says bowing deferentially.

The crown prince puts a hand on his shoulder and says. “Rise all of you rise now. There is no need to be so formal. Now what were you talking about?”

They are all standing now, even though Joffrey has sat down. “We were talking about one of the whores Hendry fucked my prince.” Tywin Frey responds.

The crown prince laughs. “Ah of course. Was it Ros by any chance Hendry? I know you have been making the eyes at her for some time, so tell me was she as good as you thought she would be?”

Hendry is silent a moment and then he says. “Yes, she was better even. How did you know my prince?”

Prince Joffrey smiles then and says. “I am the crown prince I have my way of finding out things. Personally I think someone like Bella would be better. But, regardless, so long as we are all enjoying ourselves that is what counts.”

Jon nods seeing the wisdom in what the prince says. A question that has been nagging at him for some time forces him to ask. “My prince, is it true what you said at the feast? That you beat Ser Loras Tyrell in a sparring match?”

“Yes Jon, Ser Loras is good, but he is not as good as he thinks. It was easy enough just to tire him out first and then hit him as hard as I could. The lad is arrogant and that brought him down.” The crown prince replies.

Jon looks at the crown prince in awe then as do the squires and then he asks. “What is Ser Loras like my prince? Is he as arrogant as everyone says he is?”

“More so. He looks like a girl and fights like one too. The only reason he has such a big thing for himself is because he and my uncle Renly are friends.” The crown prince says, this causes the squires to burst out laughing though Jon does not know why.

“But enough about me,” the crown prince says. “Tell me Jon, my nameday is in a few weeks and my mother has asked me what I wish to do for it. What do you think I should do?”

Jon considers this for a long time, he wonders what could be a good event for the nameday and then he has it. “Will you be here in Winterfell for your nameday my prince?”

“I can be if you wish it Jon.” The crown prince says.

Jon blushes slightly and then responds. “I think a tourney could be a very good thing my prince. It would allow the people of the north to see you and give you a chance to show just how good you are.”

There are murmurs of agreement at this and Hendry Bracken says. “That is a good idea Snow, a very good idea.”

“It would give you a chance to crown the lady Sansa Queen of Love and Beauty as well my prince.” Tywin Frey says.

“A grand gesture for your betrothed my prince. And something that will make her fall in love with you even more.” Lucion Lannister says.

“Definitely a good idea my prince.” Mors Rosby says.

The crown prince has been silent through this and then finally he looks at Jon and says. “I do believe that is a good idea Jon. I shall speak to my father about it as well as Lord Eddard and we shall begin arranging it you and I. you may tell me which northern sons will be likely to compete.”

“I….I… am...?” Jon stutters.

“Well yes, you are a Stark, or as good as one. You know the north and the northmen. You can help me arrange this in a way that will appeal to your people.” The prince responds.

“I…I….I am honoured my prince.” Jon stutters.

“It is I who is honoured Jon. You are a good man, and we do need more good men don’t we lads.” The prince asks his squires at large.

“Aye that we do my prince that we do.” Mors replies.

“Oh aye, we could always have one more amongst us.” Lucion Lannister says.

“Your Grace?” Jon asks somewhat confused. “I do not understand.”

The crown prince is silent a moment and then says. “Well have you give any thought to what you wish to do once your father goes south? Whilst things might be good between you and Lady Catelyn now, I am not sure whether they would continue to be so. Have you thought of where you wish to go and what you wish to do?”

“I do not know my prince. I was thinking of going north to the wall, or remaining here. I am not sure anymore my prince.” Jon replies honestly.

“Well why not come south with me when my family returns to King’s Landing? You could become one of my squires or perhaps even squire for Ser Jaime. I know you have always wanted to join the Kingsguard. If you come south with us, we could train together and you could squire and become a knight and earn your place in the world. You don’t have to remain here or go north. There is nothing for you here, there is everything for you in the south.”

It is a very tempting offer, Jon must admit, the chance to squire for someone like Ser Jaime, one of the finest swordsman in the realm, and a chance to carve his own path for himself. And he would get to spend time with Arya and Bran and Sansa as well. He looks at the crown prince and asks. “Would your mother not mind then? I know she does not like me.”

The crown prince laughs at that. “My mother is not a concern. She will allow this, as it would make me very happy. Consider it Jon and let me know.”


	9. Lady

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lady Sansa Stark**

Having the royal family in Winterfell truly was exciting, there were so many new faces and people to get to know and a new place to learn about. The king might be a fat old man, but the queen was golden and beautiful, Sansa did think the queen was certainly more beautiful than her own mother, but not by much, there was something in the way the queen held herself that made her seem quite sad. Then there was Prince Joffrey, the heir to the Iron Throne and her betrothed, he was golden, charming and caring, he was kind to her and spoke to her as if she were an actual person not just a thing, like Tommen did sometimes. He wanted to know more about her and what she liked and cared about, and he took her seriously. Tommen still treated her as if she were a girl, not a young lady and that was what annoyed her about him, that and the fact she knew he visited brothels no true knight would do that. Myrcella was sweet as well, she was charming and she knew Robb liked her a lot. Yes she quite liked the royal family, and she looked forward to going south.

Her golden prince had asked to speak with her today and she had dressed into one of her finest gowns for the occasion, and she felt her heart flutter as she saw him walking towards her a smile on his face. “Ah my lady Sansa, you look absolutely beautiful.” The prince said.

Sansa blushed slightly. “Thank you my prince, you look very handsome yourself.”

The prince takes her hand and kisses it and then says. “You honour me my lady. But come I believe we were to take a walk around the castle were we not?”

“If that is what you wish my prince.” Sansa replies. She then looks behind her and sees that Prince Joffrey’s constant companion Sandor Clegane is not with him. “If you do not mind me asking my prince, where is Ser Sandor?”

The prince laughs slightly, a happy sound. “Ser Sandor? He is not necessary for today. It is only you and I who are going for a walk. I do not need an escort when I am with you my lady.”

Sansa blushes slightly and asks. “Is that truly appropriate my prince? Would people not get the wrong impression?”

“People will make of this what they wish. But there is nothing wrong with a prince and his betrothed walking together. Do you think I will do something inappropriate my lady?” the crown prince responds. Sansa shakes her head and then crown prince says. “Good. Then might we proceed?” Sansa nods and they begin walking, as always with Prince Joffrey the route they take is not the same as the route they took the last time they walked together. Today they walk through the courtyard toward the ruins of the First Keep. “What do you know of the First Keep my lady?” her prince asks.

“I know it was built during or before the coming of the Andals in the south. It was raised from stone and rock, and built atop a former settlement that had been the home of the Kings of Winter beforehand. And I know that it stood until fairly recently.” Sansa responds racking her memory.

“How did it come to be a ruin? I would have thought your father or grandfather would have kept it in proper condition considering its history.” Joffrey asks.

Sansa feels slightly embarrassed at this and says. “I believe my father means to do so, but he never gets round to doing so. After all the rest of the castle and its grounds are quite beautiful. What is just one old keep?”

“True,” her prince responds. “And yet we are nothing without our histories. And this is an important part of Winterfell’s history, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Of course my prince.” Sansa responds.

Her prince smiles and they continue walking, walking mainly in silence, but a nice kind of silence where there is no awkwardness. “Tell me Sansa, what do you think of your brother coming south with us?”

“Robb? Would Robb be coming south with us?” Sansa asks half surprised half excited.

Something in her prince’s face changes at the mention of Robb but it is gone as quickly as it came and he says. “No, not Robb, I am sorry my lady but it seems that he must remain in Winterfell. However, your brother Jon might well be coming with us. Would that be to your liking?”

Jon? Her half-brother, why would the crown prince be okay with a bastard coming south with them. “I….I… do not know. It would be nice I think. Jon has always been able to control Arya. But other than that I do not know why he would come south.”

“Because there is nothing for him here in Winterfell is there my lady?” the prince asks. Sansa looks at him then confused. “Jon would not be able to do much with your mother remaining here. He would either have to go north to the wall or live here constantly worrying about something or the other. He mentioned to me he was considering coming south with us, to squire for my uncle Ser Jaime. Would you like that?”

“I think it could be nice my prince. But would it be allowed? Would it not be seen as an offence to bring Jon with us?” Sansa asks.

“An offence? No. Jon would be part of my squires and would also be squiring for my uncle. He would be part of the royal party, none would dare look askance. Of course this is only if you wish for him to come my lady.” Joffrey responds.

Sansa considers this for a long moment, as they walk past the entrance to the great hall, and then she says. “It would be nice, I think to have Jon with us in the south. It might make him happier as well.”

Her prince smiles at her then. “That is good, very good my lady. And besides, who better to serve as your sworn sword down in the south than your own brother.”

“That would be nice,” Sansa admits. “But why do you wish for Jon to come south? If you do not mind me asking, my prince?”

Her prince is silent a moment and then he responds. “I like Jon, I think he is a good man. He is someone who deserves to achieve a lot more than what he can currently achieve here in Winterfell. That is not meant as an insult to your parents my lady, but is the truth. Jon has so much skill and potential, it would be a shame to let it waste away here in the north don’t you think?”

Sansa considers this and then says. “I suppose that is true. Jon has always wanted to be a knight.”

“And in the south he can achieve that. He can get as much acclaim and praise as he wants. Just as you can my lady.” Her prince says.

“Me?” Sansa asks confused.

Her prince draws to a stop then and looks at her, she feels her skin begin to heat. “Yes, my lady. You are the fairest maiden in all of the Seven Kingdoms. Everyone will be singing your praises and there will be songs written about how fair and beautiful you are. You are kind and you are sweet. The people of King’s Landing will love you. You will make an excellent Queen.”

Sansa blushes something fierce then and asks. “Will I? Truly?”

Her prince leans and she can feel his breath against her ear, she shivers. “Would I lie to you my lady?”

Sansa shakes her head, and she feels the prince pull back and then look at her. The anticipation begins to boil inside of her, and just as she thinks the prince is about to kiss her when she hears a voice say. “Mother wants you brother.” The prince turns and there is a look of anger on his face, and Sansa feels the same until she turns and sees Tommen standing there a look of pure hurt on his face.

“What?” her prince asks.

“Mother wishes to see you.” Tommen replies.

“Very well, my lady?” he says giving her his arm.

“There is no need for that brother I walk the Lady Sansa back.” Tommen says his voice cold.

She wants to protest but her prince merely replies. “Very well then. My lady until next time.” He bows and kisses her hand and then walks off.

There is a long moment of silence after her prince has gone, where neither she nor Tommen are speaking, and where neither of them are looking at one another. It is she who breaks this. “So….how have you been Tommen?”

“So I am Tommen now am I?” Tommen asks, his voice sounding cold and bitter.

“That is your name is it not?” she replies.

“Yes, but only my mother calls me that.” He responds.

“Perhaps more people should call you that then my prince. So that you remember who you are.” She bites back.

“What in the seven hells does that mean Sansa?” Tommen asks.

Sansa looks at him then and says. “Never mind, it does not matter.”

“No say what you mean Sansa, or don’t say anything at all.” Tommen says.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” she asks.             

“Ignoring you?” Tommen asks incredulously

“Yes, you have not spoken to me since the welcoming feast. Why?” she asks.

“I have not been ignoring you Sansa. I have been trying to speak with you, but you are always spending time with my shit of a brother.” Tommen snarls.

“No you have not. You always look away whenever I come near you and you never speak to me anymore. It’s almost as if you are trying to make it out that I do not exist.” Sansa exclaims.

“How can I? When all I see is you with Joffrey? You act as if he’s some sort of knight, but he is not Sansa. He is a dangerous person! A very dangerous person!” Tommen says heatedly.

“How can you know that? You barely spend any time with him. You haven’t tried to get to know him. He is charming, and kind. And he doesn’t always go off to brothels!” Sansa responds her voice rising.

Tommen looks angry then. “So is that what this is about? The fact that I am an actual man and not some golden ponce? I thought you did not like people like that Sansa? Joffrey is a vile little creature, who is using you for his own ends.”

“You are just saying that because you are jealous.” Sansa snaps back.

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous of him? He’s our mother’s creature, he has no fight in him. He is a liar and a cheat. If anything I feel sorry for him.” Tommen snarls.

“He does not need ale to be able to speak to women Tommen. He knows how to treat a lady like a lady and not some sort object to be taken and used whenever it suits him.” Sansa growls.

Tommen looks completely taken aback. “When have I ever done that? I have never done that to anyone Sansa.”

“Yes you have. I know you have. There was Bessy Flint, Lenora Lake, and Alys Long, then there are all the girls who have come and gone since you were three and ten Tommen. You treat women like they are nothing more than play things. Prince Joffrey does not, he treats women like they are real people. He knows how to speak to them without ale. He is a real man.” Sansa says heatedly.

Tommen looks completely hurt, and Sansa feels something inside her twinge with guilt. But then he replies. “I thought you were smarter than this Sansa. I thought you knew when someone was lying to you. Evidently I was wrong, and you are just like all the other silly little girls here.” With that he turns and storms off, leaving Sansa feeling angry and hurt and sorry all at once.


	10. Wounded Pride

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

He was angry, by the gods was he angry. Sansa thought he was nothing more than a braggart, a womanizer who did not know how to treat women properly? She thought he was nothing better than a ponce with a sword? Fine let her think that, he did not need her, and he clearly did not need him. Let her go cavorting around with Joffrey, let her live this dream she had of herself, and her prince. He had wanted to be that prince, but not anymore, now, now he was going to allow her to hurt herself, and see what Joffrey truly was, and he would laugh gods how he would laugh when she saw what her ‘golden prince’ was truly like. He needed a drink by the gods did he need a drink, he needed a drink and something, or someone to hit. Preferably Joffrey, but he knew his shit of a brother would not be anywhere near the training yard. Gods was this how his father felt when Rhaegar Targaryen took Lyanna Stark?

So angry was he that he did not truly realise where he was going until he bumped into Jon. Jon, another person he was angry with. He shoved Jon then and said. “Watch where you are going Snow.”

“Sorry Tommen I am sorry.” Jon responds.

“You should be sorry.” Tommen growls.

“Tommen what’s the matter? Why are you like this?” Jon asks.

“Why because of my shit of a brother that’s why.” He snarls.

“I don’t think you can truly say Prince Joffrey is a shit Tommen. He is a nice man and he is kind. Surely it must be a misunderstanding?” Jon says.

Tommen feels his anger grow at that. “A misunderstanding? Yes that’s what it must be because it’s Joffrey. It has to be a misunderstanding, because no one can see he’s such a little shit that he actually might shit venom.”

Jon looks surprised at this. “What happened Tommen? Why are you so angry? What has Prince Joffrey done?”

“Prince Joffrey? Is that what he is now? Not your friend then? Considering how you have been going around with him and the fucking idiots he has as squires I would have thought it would be some other grovelling term.” Tommen snarls.

Jon looks taken aback by this and says. “Tommen what in the seven hells are you on about? Prince Joffrey is the crown prince it is only respectful that I call him that. Besides it’s not as if he has done something bad. He is a good man and he has been kind to me.”

“Kind? Jon, my brother is not trying to be kind to you. He is trying to use you! He is trying to turn you into a servant, someone who just mindlessly follows and obeys.” Tommen snarls.

“A servant? I do not think so Tommen, he has been treating me like a friend and like an equal. Not like how you treat me. He sees me as a person with my own wants and needs, you have only seen me as someone to go drinking with.” Jon snaps his anger showing.

“You sound like Sansa.” Tommen says.

“Well maybe there is a reason for that Tommen. Did you ever stop to consider that? You complain that Joffrey is doing these things, but really why do you think everyone is drawn to him? He is nice, charming and kind and he is willing to speak with people. You, you just use people for when you need them and discard them, when they are not useful. You have done that to Sansa since her betrothal was announced and you did it to me as well.” Jon snaps back.

Tommen feels hurt then but instead of asking how he merely says. “So you think running with Joffrey and the idiots he has for squires is going to make everything better? Everything Joffrey ever offers anyone is poisoned. It is done for his own amusement and his own gain. He does not mean what he says Jon, and if you believe him you are a fool.”

“How would you know Tom?” Jon asks, and Tommen can tell his friend is getting angry now. “You have not even bothered to get to know him since the welcoming feast. You talk badly about him, but you have not even tried, not once, to get to know him properly.”

“Because I know what he is Jon!” Tommen roars in frustration. “He is my twin, I know what he wants and why he does what he does. And I am telling you that it is not good. He is not doing this to be friends with you, he is doing this to use you. He wants to get back at me and he is trying to use you to achieve this.”

There is silence a moment and then Hendry Bracken steps forward. “Come Jon, Prince Tommen clearly does not know what he is talking about. You do not need to listen to this.”

“You see Jon.” Tommen snarls. “They are trying to prevent you from seeing the truth. When the last time a Bracken and a Stark bastard was were friends? Never that’s when. This is all a lie, a lie to make you believe something that is not real.”

Hendry Bracken responds. “Be quiet now Prince Tommen, you are not in the right state of mind to be making such accusations.”

Tommen feels the anger inside of him grow then and before he knows it he has lunged forward and punched Bracken right on the face. Bracken steps backward because of the blow clutching his nose. “I am not speaking to you Bracken. You are a hostage, and a servant. Remember that.”

He turns to Jon, and sees a look of absolute horror on his face. “You say Prince Joffrey is bad, what about you? What you did just there? Prince Joffrey would never have done what you have just done. Hendry was merely trying to get you to calm down and yet you punched him. What is wrong with you Tommen?”

“What is wrong with me?” Tommen exclaims. “What is wrong with you Jon? You have lost your manhood to my brother. You follow him around like a servant, a lost child, someone who seems to have found a saviour. What is wrong with you? You have no fire, no anything anymore. You are worse than Lucas Corbray.”

“I have finally found out who my real friends are Tommen! Prince Joffrey is giving me the chance to be myself. I do not have to pretend to be anything around him, and he encourages me to chase my dreams. Not like you, who merely wants someone to go drinking with!” Jon shouts.

Before Tommen another voice enters the fray, one Tommen truly wishes weren’t there. “What is happening here?” Tommen sees his brother, dressed in Lannister crimson walking toward them a smile on his face, his dog walking behind him.

“Prince Tommen was trying to lie to Jon about you my prince.” Lancel Lannister says.

“And why would you be doing that brother?” Joffrey asks him looking at him with those green eyes he so hates.

“Because it is the truth. You are a monster Joffrey, a devious being who merely wishes to use people for your own devices. And I will not allow you to do that anymore.” Tommen responds.

“I do not know what you mean brother. How am I a devious person? I am merely interested in my future subjects. I speak with them and treat them like people. Something I have heard you do not.” Joffrey replies.

Tommen curls his fingers into a fist and snarls. “You lie, just like mother. I know of your past brother. I know you have done this before, why the shits behind you are truth of that. But I will not let you do it to Jon.”

His brother smiles once more and then turns to Jon and asks. “Jon do you think I am being cruel or mean? Am I leading you on in anyway?”

Tommen looks at his friend then and when Jon looks torn, he gets a moment of hope, something that is crushed when Jon replies. “No my prince, no you are not, you have only ever been truthful with me.”

Joffrey turns back to look at him then and says. “You see brother. I do not know what made you think I was being anything other than honest with Jon. If it was our uncle, then you must remember that Uncle Gerion is a bitter old man whose dream in life has been to find Brightroar, something he has failed to do consistently. I would not take any advice from him.”

“And you take advice from our mother. Not exactly the best person to speak to considering how she spoke to Jon during the welcoming feast. Or have you forgotten? She did not want Jon sat at the high table, and before I brought him to the table, no one even spoke of him. So why are you so interested in Jon?” Tommen asks.

He knows Jon is looking at both him and his brother, but infuriatingly, Joffrey replies with a calmness that Tommen does not feel. “Because Jon is a good man. He has shown himself to be a man of honour and someone whom I count as a friend. He has been welcoming and kind to me, something you have not Tommen.”

“You are nothing but a serpent in the grass Joffrey. I know what you did to Myrcella, and I know what you are trying to do to Jon. I will not let you do it.” Tommen snarls.

“I do not need you dictating what I can and cannot do Tommen. You are not my mother!” Jon snaps then.

Joffrey looks at Tommen then and he can feel the smugness in his brother. “You see Tommen, this is how you make friends. You are nice and kind to them and they will come to you. But I hear you do not know how to do that. A shame really considering how good you could have been.”

Tommen feels his anger begin to boil to surface, the rage it all begins to boil. “You are a liar Joffrey.” He says taking a step closer to his brother. “A liar and a cheat.” Another step. “And I will not let you ruin Winterfell, not like you ruined King’s Landing.” He takes another step closer.

“I did not ruin anything for you brother. You ruined it yourself. You are like our father, you are self-destructive and you will bring harm to everyone else around you. I am trying to protect you.” Joffrey says.

Tommen can almost touch his brother then. “You are nothing more than a cowardly lion, and I will hurt you. Like you have hurt me.”

“I have done nothing. You have done this yourself Tommen. You are nearly a man now it is time you realised that you have to take responsibility for your actions.” Joffrey replies. And then he closes the gap between them and whispers. “You see brother, you see what I have done. Jon Snow is my servant now, and he will do whatever I ask him to. This is what could be yours, this power could be yours if you would just open your hands and take it.”

Instead of replying, Tommen allows his anger to come to the surface and bringing his fist up he smashes it into Joffrey’s stomach and then face. He then brings his left hand up and smashes it into Joffrey’s face, and when his brother falls to the ground he leans down and begins punching him, over and over again, until he is dragged off of him by Ser Arys and Sandor Clegane. He looks at his brother and spits. “I would rather die than be like you.”


	11. Lone Wolf

****

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Jon Snow**

Prince Joffrey is sputtering on the ground, as Tommen is dragged off of him by Sandor Clegane and Ser Arys Oakheart, Jon stands there rooted to the spot, unable to move from shock. He hears Tommen curse his brother one last time before he shakes off Clegane and Ser Arys and storm off to gods alone knows where, Ser Arys follows him shortly after, and still Jon stands there rooted unable to move, until he hears the crown prince sputtering on the ground and he snaps out of the trance. He moves to help prince Joffrey stand and along with Sandor Clegane he lifts him up and gets him to stand. Prince Joffrey is bleeding from his nose and from a cut lip, and he looks angry, oh so very angry, and still there is something about him that looks regal. Something that Tommen did not have when he turned to a savage, something that shocks Jon as much as it angers him.

The crown prince is stood there now, cleaning his mouth and silent, they are all silent as they wait for the crown prince to speak and yet he says nothing. They all look at where Prince Tommen had been and the mark of blood on the floor from where Prince Joffrey’s blood had been spilt and Jon feels shaken. This is a side of Tommen he has never seen before, a dark side, a side he is not sure he likes. Tommen had said things that Jon knows are not true, he had accused Prince Joffrey of being something he is not, and all the things Tommen had accused Joffrey of being, he has shown himself to be. The darkness that Tommen has shown here today, Jon wonders if it has always been there, and if so how it could have been that he missed it. Had Tommen been lying to him this whole time, had he been lying to them all?

Lucas Corbray one of the prince’s squires speaks first then breaking the silence. “Are you okay my prince?”

Jon looks at Prince Joffrey and sees a glint of something, and just as quickly it is gone. His voice is calm when he replies. “Yes I am fine. It was a minor hit nothing more. And even then I merely allowed him to do it. I am his older brother after all better he does this now then later on.”

“Of course my prince of course. So very noble of you.” Lucas says.

“He should not have said those things to you my prince. He was out of order and he must needs be taught a lesson.” Hendry Bracken says, the blood having stopped flowing out of his nose.

“I agree with Hendry my prince,” Lancel says. “Prince Tommen must needs be taught a lesson. For him to treat you and avoid reproach is unacceptable he must be taught his place, which he has clearly forgotten.”

“It would be best if we did not plot here, somewhere secluded.” Lucion Lannister says. “Jon?”

Jon is silent a moment and then says. “We could go to the godswood, there will be no one there at this point in time. Or we could go to the first keep, it is a ruin and there is like to be no one there as well.”

They all look at Prince Joffrey and Jon is not surprised when the crown prince says. “The First Keep makes the most sense. Jon show us the way.”

And so it is from their place in the outer yard that Jon leads them back inside the castle and toward the ruins of the First Keep. The old ruined structure has always been a favourite haunt of Jon’s especially when he was younger and would come here to hide when Theon was bullying him. They all enter and Mors has to duck to not knock his head. It is Hendry Bracken who speaks first. “Prince Tommen has gone beyond the normal means. He has damaged your person my prince, that is an offence and he must be shown that he cannot do that.”

“He hurt you my prince. That cannot be allowed to stand.” Lucas Corbray simpers.

“He was angry about himself, no major wounds were done it is fine.” Prince Joffrey says, though that glint Jon saw in his eye is still there.

“It is not my prince,” Jon finds himself speaking up now. “Prince Tommen has always had a temper on him. He is angry and is unpredictable, I believe he had just come from the godswood, and considering what he was saying to me before you came, he had just argued with my sister Sansa. Gods alone know what he will do now.”

“Yes, Jon speaks truly my prince. Prince Tommen is a danger not only to himself but others as well. His anger could create a negative image of you in the eyes of the northmen. And with the tourney coming up so very soon, that is something that cannot be afforded.” Hendry Bracken says.

“The Prince has shown himself for a mad man and someone who cannot control his emotions. Who cannot be trusted to act appropriately in public. He is a risk to the family, to your family my prince.” Lancel says.

“He is still my brother though. I would not do something that would make people wonder about the relationship I have with my brother. He was angry and troubled, I can understand why he did what he did.” Prince Joffrey says sounding so noble and so brave despite it all.

“He is your brother, and that is why he must be punished my prince.” Jon finds himself saying. “One must keep control over one’s own family to ensure others do not try and test them. That is what you said to me was it not?”

The prince looks at him for a long time then and then he sighs. “That it was, that it was Jon. But then he is my brother and anything that anyone who was not part of the royal family would get as punishment for doing what he did to me, would be seen as a measure too far. There has to be something that can be done that will not raise too many questions.”

They are all silent then pondering over what could be done, and then Jon remembers something that the prince had told him and something he knows Tommen has always wondered about as well. “My prince I think I might well have an idea.”

They all turn to look at him then and the crown prince cocks his head and asks. “And what is that Jon?”

Jon swallows. “Well I am sure you know by now that Tommen likes fighting. He has beaten enough people since he has been in Winterfell for that to be made apparent. You are a better swordsman than he is my prince, a far better swordsman, if you were to challenge him into a fight, it would make the most sense. Tommen has always boasted about how good a swordsman he is, if he were to be brought down to a normal level through fighting you, then I think that would be the best way to teach him a lesson.”

There is a moment’s silence and then Lucas says. “That is a very good idea that Jon has had my prince. You are the best young swordsman in the realm, Prince Tommen will be no match for you. Beating him, even humiliating him will bring him down from his pedestal and make him more humble.”

There is murmuring then, and Jon sees that glint in the crown prince’s eyes again. Hendry Bracken speaks then. “A duel, yes a duel would do just the trick my prince. Beat Prince Tommen, and humiliate him in front of all of Winterfell and the court, and I am sure that would be enough of a lesson for him.”

Jon looks at the crown prince then and sees that he is smiling. “Yes, a duel. A duel, aye I shall challenge my brother to a duel and teach him his place. But first there is something I must make sure of first.”  Silence as they all wait for the prince to speak and when he does, he is looking right at Jon. “Tell me Jon, after my brother’s little display today, what do you think of him?”

Jon is somewhat taken aback by the question but replies honestly, the anger still boiling inside of him at what Tommen said. “I think your brother is an arrogant boy trying to be a man Your Grace. I believe he has fallen to the wrong influences and as such must be brought back to the right path.”

There is some murmuring of appreciation at that and then the prince asks. “And are you willing to see that done Jon? Are you willing to see my brother brought back to the right path through any means necessary?”

Jon gets down to one knee then and says. “I am my prince.”

“I need to know I can trust you Jon. I know that you were friends with my brother for a long time. I need to know I can trust you to do as I ask, to ensure Tommen is brought back from the darkness and to the light.” The crown prince asks.

Jon looks up at the crown prince then and says. “I promise my prince. Whatever you decide, I am sure it will be for the best. Prince Tommen has fallen and you are the only one who can bring him back from the darkness.”

He sees the crown prince looking down at him smiling. “How willing are you to commit to this promise Jon? These will be trying times for us. Tommen is too far into the dark for us to bring him out in just a single day. There will be many days where it will seem as though all is lost, but we must not give up hope. We must keep trying and with the grace of the gods we shall succeed.”

Jon looks at the crown prince and says. “So long as it is you who is leading, I will follow you to the ends of the world if need be my prince.”

The crown prince smiles even more then and says. “You are a man of honour are you not Jon Snow?”

“I am Your Grace.” Jon replies.

“Then on your honour swear this vow to me now, and you shall be with me when we free Tommen from the darkness.” The crown prince says. Jon looks at the prince, and he can see the prince considering what to say next, and then. “Do you Jon Snow, swear by the old gods and the new, to do as I ask without question, through danger, sickness and health? Do you promise to be my man through the darkness and through the light? Do you promise to speak and fight for me when asked to?”

“I do Your Grace. I promise to do as you ask without question and to stand by your side and fight for you when needed. I promise by the old gods and the new that I shall hold your secrets and keep your counsel through the darkness and the light.” Jon replies, his heart hammering in his chest.

“And do you swear to uphold the values of knightly chivalry in the face of danger and deceit? Do you swear to always protect your liege?” the crown prince asks.

“I do Your Grace. I will be the finest sworn sword you have, and I will always protect you my prince. You shall be the first and only concern I have in times of danger.” Jon replies feeling more confident.

The crown prince smiles then and says. “Then rise Jon Snow, and join us as we try to liberate my brother from the darkness that has infested his soul.”

Jon is helped to his feet by the prince and is patted on the back by the other squires. Someone has gotten a flagon of ale with them, and so they drink, and though the ale burns Jon’s throat, he feels happy and excited, he has committed to something, he is part of a group now, he is part of a family. For the first time in his life he feels as if he belongs somewhere.

After the flagon has gone round for about the fifth time the prince speaks, his voice slightly thick. “Now tell us Jon, you know my brother, you have seen him fight, how good is he and does he have any weaknesses?”

Jon feels slightly light headed because of the sting of the ale but nonetheless he says. “Prince Tommen is weak on his left side, but not by much my prince. He always tries to keep moving when he fights to prevent his opponents from hitting him on his left. If you were to feint to your right but bring your shield up and hit his left then he would be stuck. That is when you could get him.”

The prince nods and then says. “He will be quick though, just as I am he will be quick.”

“Then there will need to be way for him to be slowed down. He cannot be allowed full access.” Hendry Bracken says.

 Jon does not know why he says what he says it’s as if some external force has made him say it. “Prince Tommen wears plate armour my prince. If you wish to slow him down, loosening his left plate would do the job.”

The squires all look at him in shock but the crown prince is smiling. “Then that is your job. You have sworn the vow, now it is time for you to live up to your oath. Go and do as you have suggested and we shall know you for a man of your word Jon.”


	12. An Arrangement

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Robb Stark**

The royal family were an interesting lot, the king was clearly past his glory days, fat and a drunk, he had some charm but Robb could not see what had made his own father friends with the man. Truly there were days when Robb thought the king was an oaf and an idiot. Then there was the queen, who was as cold as ice, as cold as the wall Uncle Benjen had said when Robb had spoken to him about it. She barely spoke or smiled at anyone, apart from the Kingslayer, and she always looked as if she was bored or as if there was something stuck up her. The crown prince was a devious shit that much Robb knew, he seemed charming and kind, but there was something most definitely lurking beneath the surface, something not right. As for Tommen, well his friend seemed to have gone more and more into his shell with his family here, he was not happy about what his brother was doing to Jon or Sansa and despite confronting them both about it, it seemed they were oblivious and that was worrying. Myrcella though was sweet and caring, she was kind and Robb found that he had a lot to talk to her about, things which he could not discuss with anyone else he could talk to her about and he found he quite enjoyed her company.

It was with her that Robb found himself walking through the castle, listening to her talk about King’s Landing and finding himself fascinated with what she had to say. “You see there are just too many people in the Red Keep. And they expect you to always act in the way of a Princess, constantly trying to jostle for your favour and yet if you want act freely and run around then they look down upon you.”

“But you are a princess Cella? Surely you can do whatever you want and no one but your mother and father can question you?” Robb asks.

“It is precisely because I am a princess that these restrictions have come into being Robb. A princess cannot cavort as freely as say your sister does. There are expectations that are placed on my shoulders and as such I must ever act the lady, unless my mother says otherwise. And she never does.” Myrcella replies.

“Then surely the way they teach us that Princes and Princesses are always allowed to do what they want should be changed, for it is a lie and there is nothing more dishonourable than a lie.” Robb responds.

Myrcella laughs and Robb finds his heart beating all the quicker because of it. “Oh yes, it most certainly is a lie Robb, but it is a lie that must be maintained otherwise those at court would seek to undermine us at every turn.”

“Why would they wish to undermine you Cella? You are the princess, not them.” Robb asks somewhat confused.

“Because they want to rise higher. My mother is the top person at court amongst the ladies, they find out something about me they know my mother will not like, they will use that to go to her and further their own position at court. It is why I so prefer Winterfell to King’s Landing there is none of that here.” Cella says almost wistfully.

“What will you do when you return to King’s Landing then Cella?” Robb asks. “Will you continue to hide yourself from everyone and everything?”

Myrcella is scratching Greywind’s ears when she replies. “I do think I might well take your advice and be more open. I am a princess not a brood mare, and I do deserve the chance to have more freedom.”

“And what would you do if your mother complains about this new direction as it were?” Robb asks intrigued.

“Why I would tell her I am a Baratheon as much as I am a Lannister if not more so.” Myrcella replies before giggling.

Robb laughs along with her and says. “That most certainly is bold of you my princess. I look forward to hearing more about that when you are in King’s Landing.” He stops and then turns serious. “Cella there is something I need to ask you.”

Myrcella looks at him then, her green eyes serious. “And what is that Robb?”

“This thing your brother does, or rather is doing. Is it genuine? Is he truly like that or not?” Robb asks.

Princess Myrcella is silent for a very long time and then she says. “I could act as if I do not know what you mean Robb. But I like you and will not lie to you. This thing Joffrey is doing, is an act. Very much so, he is trying to charm your sister and brother, and as such he is looking for a way to do it. He is a monster, a horrible monster.”

“Then why don’t we stop him? If we tell your father and mother what he is doing, surely they will put an end to it?” Robb asks.

Myrcella snorts. “My father has never paid Joffrey any attention he is not like to start doing so now. And mother, mother cannot see the faults in Joffrey, she never has been never will be able to. No Joffrey will continue doing as he does and we shall suffer for it.”

“That is not right.” Robb says. “There must be some way we can stop him before any more people suffer. Tommen has already begun to grow detached and I worry what will happen if this continues.”

Myrcella squeezes his hand and says. “Tommen is like our father, he grows hot and cold. He might seem detached now but sooner or later he will come back to himself and be jovial again. It will take a matter of days, I think.”

“Still simply allowing Joffrey to keep playing his games is not right. He must be stopped and I do not know how, but he must be. Otherwise people will suffer for it.” Robb says.

“You are so brave Robb, to want to do this. So very brave.” Myrcella says with admiration.

Robb blushes then and he knows Greywind is rubbing himself affectionately against Myrcella, but before he can respond they hear a voice say. “Well isn’t this sweet. Two lovebirds together at last.” Robb turns to see Tommen sat on a ledge, a flagon of ale in his hand.

“Are you okay Tom?” Robb asks.

His friend takes a deep gulp of ale and then says. “Okay? I suppose you could say so. I still have my health, even if Sansa and Jon are complete fucking idiots. And I still have you two don’t I?”

The desperation in his friend’s voice makes Robb’s heart lurch and makes him all the angrier at Sansa, Jon and Joffrey. Myrcella has moved from him to comfort her brother. “Of course you do Tom. You will always have us.”

She looks at Robb then her green eyes beseeching and he nods. He walks toward Tommen as well and takes the flagon from his friend and says. “Of course you do Tom. You know that. Now what’s wrong?”

His friend sounds miserable when he replies. “I confronted Jon, and I got the same response as what Sansa gave me. They are too far gone to save Robb, they are lost. Jon is turning into Lucas Corbray, he’s a little dog following my brother around.”

Robb feels anger grow inside of him but before he can respond another voice appears. “Well, well if it isn’t the three friends drinking and plotting. What are you sulking about now Tommen?”

Robb turns and sees Prince Joffrey with his squires and Jon standing there looking smug. He feels his anger grow and says. “Have you come to be a cunt again my prince?”

He sees the prince stiffen in anger, but is surprised when Jon replies. “Watch how you speak to Prince Joffrey Robb. He is not Tommen he knows who and what he is. Speak to him with respect.”

“Respect?” Robb asks incredulously. “Why should I give him respect when all he does is belittle my home and my friends?”

“Because he is the crown prince and he deserves your respect. He is doing what he thinks is right. That you are taking offence is not his problem.” Jon replies looking straight at him.

“Bollocks. You are not making any sense Jon.” Myrcella says.

“I fear you might well have been taken in by our brother’s lucid ways sister. Jon is speaking the truth. I am merely being kind and friendly with our host.” The prince replies.

“All of the Starks are our hosts Joffrey, not just Jon. Now what do you want?” Myrcella asks.

“I have come to speak to our brother.” Joffrey replies smugly.

“I do not want to speak with a cunt brother, now go.” Tommen replies angrily.

Joffrey advances then anger on his face, but he flinches back when Greywind moves forward snarling. “Can you not keep that beast on a leash Stark? Your brother has his wolf better controlled than you do.”

“That is because you have made it so that he never has Ghost with him when he is with you Joffrey. Or have you forgotten your fear?” Myrcella asks.

The prince snarls, but it is Jon who replies. “The prince is right to ask Robb to keep his direwolf better trained. They are not pets but animals, and they are dangerous very dangerous.”

“Is that why Ghost is rarely seen with you nowadays Jon? Because your precious golden prince asked it of you?” Tommen asks.

Robb sees his brother merely stare at Tommen before replying. “It is the right course of action, these direwolves are not pets. They are animals and it is time you realised that Robb.”

“They are as much a part of us as anything else Jon. Do not forget that, you have one as well. You are not just anyone, you are a Stark no matter your name.” Robb pleads.

His brother merely looks at him unseeingly. “I am what I have made for myself. And I will decide my own actions not you.”

The crown prince smiles then. “You see, Jon has grown since his time with me. But that is not why I am here.”

“Then hurry up and say what you have to say before Greywind tears your throat out Joffrey.” Tommen snaps.

The crown prince tuts then. “Such a temper that does not look good for a prince Tommen. But yes, since you seem so convinced I have committed some wrong or the other, I have become quite offended and as such demand the chance to defend my name.”

“And how will you do that?” Myrcella asks.

“A duel. I and Tommen, a sparring match as it were. In the practice yard using live steel.” Joffrey replies.

“Terms?” Tommen asks stepping of the ledge.

“We fight until one of us surrenders. And if you lose you will admit you have been lying about all those accusations and will clean out my shit bowl for a month.” Joffrey says looking smugly.

“And if you lose?” Tommen asks.

“I will not lose brother. But if by some miracle you beat me, then I will allow Jon to have his wolf with him whenever he is with me. And I shall give you gold.” The crown prince replies.

Before Tommen can reply, Robb hisses. “Tommen think about this, you have never fought using live steel!”

“It does not matter Robb, I will and I can win.” Tommen whispers back before turning to his brother and saying. “I accept, when do you wish for this fight to take place?”

“Let us not delay it shall we?” the crown prince states. “Let the fight commence tomorrow after the morning meal. I shall see you there brother.”

“Yes, you shall. Be prepared to lose.” Tommen snarls.

As they watch Joffrey and his squires move off, Robb looks at Jon and sees him glaring at them all before he too leaves. 


	13. Confused

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Jon Snow**

The sense of anticipation and anger inside of him as he walked toward the armoury was something else. It was something he had never truly felt before, the feeling of doing something that he wanted to do, something he could truly control and something that would make him feel like his own person. Prince Joffrey was right, he needed to do this, not only to get Tommen back but to show that he was his own man, and that he could do something like this without feeling bad about it. Tommen needed to be taught a lesson, he needed to be shown that his way was not the only way, and he needed to realise that people had feelings and their own hopes and dreams as well. Yes, he felt that this was the right thing to do. The fact that Robb had dared bring up Ghost angered him though, who was his brother to say something like that, when he was cavorting with Myrcella Baratheon? Ghost was being protected because that was the right thing to do.

He arrived at the armour and took a deep breath, looked around and when he was sure that there was no one else around to see him he pushed open the armour door and walked in. it was silent, there was no one around, and Jon knew that he would never get as good a chance again and so, saying a quick prayer he walked forward and then took a right to where he knew Tommen’s armour was kept. He walked and walked, and though his heart was hammering in his chest, he continued walking telling himself he was doing the right thing, Tommen was lost in the darkness and needed to be brought back to the light. When he arrived at where Tommen’s armour was kept, he stopped took a breath and then opened the cabinet and took another deep breath. Tommen’s armour was there before him, glistening brightly in the light, silver shining. He swallowed and then looked to the left side of the armour, and sighed. He moved to the armour and then began loosening the straps. His heart was hammering away in his chest, and just as he had loosened the first part of the plate, he took a deep breath looked around and then when he was sure no one else was around he looked back to the armour and resumed loosening the straps, his fingers were beginning to sweat from nerves, he loosened one strap and then another. Once the final part of the left plate was loosened, not enough to be completely obvious, but enough to ensure that damage would be done when Tommen actually fought, Jon stepped back and admired his work for a moment before smiling and turning around and walking out of the armoury.

He walks out of the armour feeling content with himself, tomorrow when Prince Joffrey and Tommen fight Tommen will finally be taught a lesson in humility. He will not stand a chance against Prince Joffrey not a chance. And it will be good for him, a darkness has indeed taken over his soul and that is something that must needs be changed. It must be changed through any means necessary, and if Robb and Princess Myrcella cannot see it then they are blind, too blind. Perhaps because of their own developing affections for one another they cannot see the truth, but it is there for all to see. Jon walks back toward the ruined first keep where he knows Prince Joffrey and his squires will be, he feels confident and happy he will be rewarded for this he knows, he feels as if with doing this he has now finally made himself a part of Prince Joffrey’s group, he will have earned his place there.

Jon is still smiling to himself when he arrives at the entrance to the ruins, he stops when he hears the sound of laughter. He wonders what the squires are talking about, curious to see what they speak about when he is not there he waits outside the entrance. Hendry Bracken is speaking. “Did you see how angry Snow looked when Stark brought up his direwolf? Gods it was funny as anything.”

“Oh yes, those direwolves have some strange attachment to their masters. It is not natural, perhaps we should ask Snow whether he would be willing to kill his direwolf as a sign of loyalty to you my prince.” Lancel says.

“He would probably do it considering how fucking mindless he is. He is worse than Corbray.” Hendry Bracken says.

“He is a bastard, what do you expect? He is probably all kinds of attention and praise. If we asked him to suck our cocks he would probably do it if he thought it would get him in with us.” Lucion Lannister boasts.

There is a roar of laughter, and Jon feels his face heat up with shame, is this what they truly think of him. “I think we might as well ask him to do something that would make him yours completely my prince, merely getting him to loosen the armour is not enough. He must become truly yours.” Mors Rosby says in that deep voice of his.

“What do you have in mind?” the prince asks and Jon’s hear lurches.

“Something degrading. Something that would make any sane man bristle in anger and demand retribution. The bastard is yours now, but we must make him completely yours so that he does not have a chance to go back.” Rosby replies.

“Hmm, an interesting suggestions Mors. Perhaps we could make him do a walk of shame. Not here, but in King’s Landing, where his father will have no power. Make him strip naked and walk through the streets whilst the people of the city pelt fruit and vegetables at him. And when he asks why, I would reply that a true man of the crown prince does not question only does.” The crown prince says.

The squires erupt into laughter and Jon feels his face bristle with shame and anger. Still he stands rooted to the spot as he hears Hendry Bracken speak once more. “What about the direwolf my prince? Surely if you wish to make the man yours, then you must ask him to get rid of that beast. For having that thing around will not be good for us.”

“Bracken speaks true Your Grace. The direwolf must go so that Snow can truly be yours. With the direwolf there is a part of Snow that will always linger on and fight. But without the wolf he is weak and malleable.” Lancel says.

Jon feels his heart hammering viciously inside of him and his face is red, and he feels like shouting but when he turns to leave he stops and sees Ser Gerion standing there in the shadows a finger on his lip, Jon looks at him questioningly and he merely nods toward the ruined first keep. Jon turns back and hears the crown prince say. “Did you see how he looked when his brother brought up the damn wolf? Yes, that will be a way to test his loyalty killing the direwolf, getting him to kill the direwolf. Yes that is the perfect way to do it. And I am sure the boy will do it. He is so wrapped up in all these things I have offered him that he will not question me.”

“Will you actually give him any of these things my prince?” Jon hears Hendry Bracken ask.

The prince is silent and then Jon hears him burst out laughing. “What do you take me for? A fool. Of course I will not give him the things I said I would, I am not an idiot. Giving a bastard a legitimisation would mean we are all under threat from such bastards from reaching too high. No let the bastard dream of these things and work for me and do the things none else would dream of doing. He will rot in the seven hells as my slave.”

Jon hears more laughter at that and is about to step forward when he feels something pull him back. As he struggles against the grip of the person holding him he hears Gerion whisper. “Do not be an idiot now Jon.”

He continues struggling for a little while long all the while the squires and the prince continue making jokes and slandering him, eventually he stops struggling and Gerion releases him. “We must move away from here.” The man says and he begins walking Jon fuming and angry follows him because he knows he cannot do anything else.

They keep walking until they reach the broken tower, where Gerion stops and looks at Jon. Jon knows his face is burning with anger and shame. He looks at Gerion then and says. “I…..I…..I…”

“You feel like a fool don’t you Jon.” Gerion replies, his voice even.

“Yes.” Jon replies.

“Tommen was right was he not? My other nephew has bene playing you for a fool and you have allowed him to.”

“Yes.” Jon replies says unable to say anything else for fear of crying, so angry and upset he is.

“Are you going to continue being his fool Jon?” Gerion asks.

“I….I…I do not know.” Jon stammers.

Gerion sighs. “You do not know? How can you not know what you are going to do? Are you so caught in his lies that you do not know where the sun is?”

“I….I….I swore an oath Gerion. I swore to be his man.” Jon replies.

“And you have just seen what that oath means to Joffrey. Absolutely nothing, it means fucking nothing. Now I ask you again are you going to continue being his servant, his fool, or are you going to do something about it?” Gerion says.

Jon looks at Gerion then and asks. “How? I swore an oath to be his man through everything. It would not be honourable to go against that.”

Gerion laughs. “Honour? Come now Jon, do you think honour was the thing that Joffrey was thinking about when he made you swear that oath? No your servitude was what he was thinking of. Now tell me are you going to stand by and let him abuse you, or are you going to do something about it?”

“I….I….I do not know what to do.” Jon stammers, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Jon hears Tommen’s uncle sigh in frustration. “You stop feeling sorry for yourself right now and you go and apologise to Tommen. He was right, you were wrong, the sooner you tell him that, the sooner you two can become friends again.”

“But will he accept me? I betrayed him…..I….” Jon says

“I could tell you he would but you must go and see for yourself I will not tell you otherwise.” Gerion says before he walks off.

Jon is left standing in front of the broken tower with all kinds of thoughts and feelings brewing inside of his head, anger, shame, hurt these are all the emotions that are going through his head as he walks from the broken tower toward the godswood, when he gets there he stands in front of the heart tree head bowed, praying for an answer. He knows not how long he is there for, but at some point, he feels something rub up against him and he opens his eyes to see Ghost there looking at him, his red eyes looking straight into his soul. “I have messed up Ghost.” He says his voice thick with emotion.

The direwolf is silent, and Jon continues. “I betrayed Tommen and insulted him when he was merely trying to help me. What sort of a friend am I?”

 _A terrible one, you do not deserve his friendship, you deserve nothing bastard._ A voice in his head says, and Jon is inclined to agree with it. “I do not know what to do Ghost, what do I do? Tommen would be well within his rights to refuse me. I have brought dishonour to my family as well with my actions.”

The direwolf says nothing but Jon swears he hears a voice on the wind say. “You swore an oath, you must stand by it, bastard. You must stand by it.”

Jon stands there for a very long time looking at the heart tree an argument raging within him, he cries, he rages, he sobs, he does all kinds of things during that time as he wrestles with what he has done, and what he has heard. Gods he does not know what to do, he truly does not know what to do. Why is this happening? Why? Why did he not believe Tommen? Tommen who had always been good to him, and never expected anything in return.

That is when his decision becomes clear, he sighs wipes his eyes and then stands tall he looks at Ghost, and the direwolf gives him strength, he ruffles its fur for a moment and then turns and walks out of the godswood, Ghost at his side. He walks and walks and as he comes closer to the Great Keep he feels his heart begin to hammer inside of his chest, he swallows and walks inside, Ghost a constant at his side. He continues walking up the stairs toward where he knows Tommen’s rooms are, he stops when he comes to his friend’s room, the door is slightly ajar and he can hear voices. He swallows, takes a deep breath and knocks. “Come in.” his friend calls out.

Jon swallows and pushes the door open. He stands there in the entranceway, Tommen looks at him a long moment and then asks in a hard tone. “What do you want Snow?”

Jon swallows and then says nervously. “I have come to apologise.”

“Apologise? Apologise for what precisely, for I was under the impression you thought you had done no wrong and that my brother had done no wrong either. So pray tell me why you are apologising.” Tommen replies.

Jon feels the hurt and the pain well up inside of him then and says. “I was wrong, about so many things Tommen. I know you were only trying to help me and I am sorry that I said the things I said. I was not thinking clearly. I betrayed you.” Tommen is silent glaring at him and Jon swallows and then continues. “I have done something completely dishonourable. I was the one who suggested the duel to Prince…Joffrey, I was the one who suggested it, I was angry and I wanted to make sure he got back at you. I….he….he played on my weaknesses, and made me feel wanted, but I know now that he was only using me as you said. I….I….I have tampered with your armour.”

Jon looks down and Ghost is there a reassuring presence in the darkening times. A long silence follows this and then Tommen speaks his voice hard. “What part?”

“The left hand side of the plate. You are not all that good on your left and so I told Joffrey and he asked me to tamper with the fittings.” Jon says to the floor.

Silence and then Tommen asks. “Why are you telling me this? I thought you were his servant?”

“Because what I did was without honour. And because what I did was wrong.” Jon replies. “I swore an oath to him as well, saying I would do whatever he asked of me, without questioning him. I….I… I am sorry.” Tears are threatening to fall from his eyes now.

He hears a chair move and hears footsteps come toward him, he looks up to see Tommen standing before him. Before he can speak his friend has raised his fist and punched him hard. As Jon feels his head snap back and then forward, he hears Tommen say. “You are a fucking idiot Jon. I should not accept you back for what you have done, especially after the oath you swore to my cunt of a brother. But what is an oath sworn to a man who has no honour, if not a lie. You have told me the truth and that is what matters, you have and always will be more of a brother to me than Joffrey. Nothing you do could ever change that.”

Jon’s lip is bleeding but still he asks tentatively. “Does that mean I…. I am forgiven?” he does not dare hope and yet a part of him does.

“Yes, of course it does you fucking moron now come here.” Tommen growls before enveloping him in a bone crunching hug.

Jon feels his heart soar though he dreads what will happen now with the fight. 


	14. Fight

**5 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

The day had dawned bright and fresh and he had woken up happy and clear headed. The fog of alcohol did not clog his mind and he was not filled with anger at the thought of the day. No instead he looked forward to greeting the day like any other, though this one would be special. This would be the day he finally got a chance to prove to everyone what a lying little shit his brother was, his brother, the mere thought of the little shit made him angry, the things he had made Jon swear had been enough for Tommen to want to go there and then and rip his heart out. The only thing that had stopped him from doing so was the fact that Jon had looked so distraught and hurt that doing something like that might have only made him feel worse. And though Tommen had been quite sincere when he had told Jon that they were friends, his friend still seemed so unsure around him as if he feared being dismissed at a moment’s notice. And that angered Tommen.

Right now he was in his room meeting with Jon, Robb, his uncle Gerion and Tyrek with Ser Arys acting as a guard watching the door. They were meeting to discuss Joffrey and the various things he had been planning. Jon was the one speaking at present. “The way he speaks makes it seem as if he truly has fought with live steel before and that he truly has beaten Ser Loras Tyrell that does make me wonder whether he is good or if that was just another lie.”

“Another lie, mother would have mentioned it in her letters had Joffrey beaten the knight of flowers. That he even claims to use live steel is another lie, mother would have mentioned that as well. He has been living a lie for so long now I do not think he knows the truth from the lie anymore.” Tommen responds.

“And that is a good thing, as it means that none of his little minions would have had the guts to tell him the truth about his skill, either that or they do not risk fighting at their full potential against him.” Uncle Gerion says.

“Aye that is true, very true.” Tommen replies. “Did you manage to go back to fix the armour Jon?”

His friend nods. “Yes my prince I did. I went back last night when most of the castle was asleep and did so.”

“And what does Joffrey think you are doing at the moment? Does he know that you are here?” Tommen asks.

His friend is silent, and then he says. “I told him that I had some last minute things that needed to be done for the family. That is where he thinks I am. Truthfully I was somewhat hoping I would not need to go back to him, after all that has happened I do not think I could.”

“And I would not try to force you to do so, but it is somewhat something that needs to be done.” Tommen responds.

“What do you mean my prince?” Jon asks. “I thought you did not want me to be friends with him.”

Tommen is silent and looks at his uncle. And his uncle finally speaks. “Your friendship with Prince Joffrey is something that is somewhat deplorable because of how it came into being, but it is something that has its uses.”

“How so?” Jon asks.

Uncle Gerion is silent a moment and then responds. “He believes that you are still his man, he does not know that we know of his plots and plans. If you go to him today and tell him that you have pretended to make up with Tommen, he will be most interested by this and will seek to use you to gather information on what he believes Tommen will do. You can feed him this information, and make it seem as though it will truly happen. Of course it will not happen, but Joffrey does not need to know this. The more he believes you are his man, the more arrogant he will get and the more mistakes he will make.”

There is silence for a moment and then Jon says. “Do you think Joffrey will actually accept this?”

“He will want to believe that you are his man, especially now that he is down a squire.” Uncle Gerion replies.

A moment’s silence and then Tommen asks. “What did happen to Lucas Corbray? And how do you know he is dead uncle?”

His uncle smiles slyly then and merely says. “A Lannister pays their debts boys. A Lannister pays their debts.”

Tommen laughs then as do Robb and Jon and Tyrek and then he turns to his friend and asks. “What else can you tell me about my brother Jon? You sparred with him, does he have any particular traits or habits?”

His friend is silent as he considers his response and then he says. “He has this habit of going to his right a lot. He leans over his sword and backward, and whenever he is about to go for a swing his knee begins to shake. That was what I observed when he fought Hendry Bracken.”

“A shaky knee? Clearly there is something there, is that not a case of nerves uncle?” Tommen asks his uncle.

His uncle smiles then. “Yes, yes it is. Very much so, clearly the boy has some sort of nervous disposition when he fights. And with him thinking your armour has been tampered with, that confidence is only going to grow. He will be arrogant and will try to do something he is not actually skilled enough to do. That will be when your opening will come.”

“And before then?” Tommen asks.

“Before then you must act as if you’re being hindered by the left plate. You must make it look as though Jon truly did allow the loosening to happen. Make it look real and the boy will grow confident and cocky, and when he begins shaking, that is when you strike. He will fall and he will fall hard.” His uncle replies.

“I will have to take some hits of course.” Tommen says thinking about the live steel and how much it will, hurt then then he thinks of Jon nearly crying and merely says. “Very well then.”

With that they all stand and walk from his room, Tommen leads their group, feeling confident, though he has never fought with live steel before, he has skill and talent and he knows where his brother’s weaknesses are now. When they come to the armour he nods to his friends and then with Tyrek’s help puts on his armour, which shines silver in the sunlight. The armour weights somewhat heavily on him as he walks from the armoury to the sparring yard. His brother and his brother’s squires are already there when he arrives. Jon hurries over and begins whispering in Joffrey’s ear, and he sees his brother look at him and then smile before patting Jon on the back, and though he knows Jon is only lying to Joffrey he still feels anger at the sight.

His brother comes to meet him in the middle of the sparring yard then, and after Tyrek and Jon have handed them both their swords, steel swords, his brother looks at him and smirks. “Have you come to meet your fate then brother? There is nothing wrong in surrendering now.”

His brother is dressed in golden armour similar to what Tommen has seen Uncle Jaime wearing and the smug smile on his face is what makes Tommen reply. “I would not dream of surrendering to someone like you. When I have beaten you, you will be the one asking for mercy.”

His brother laughs then. “Such arrogance, from a boy who has never fought with live steel before.”

“We both know you have not either. Your lies will show through before this is over.” Tommen responds before he sees the favour attached to his brother’s armour.

His brother sees this and smirks. “She gave it to me, your dear Sansa. She seems to find more joy with me than with you. But then again so do most people.”

Tommen says nothing he merely brings his sword up as does Joffrey and when Ser Rodrik begins reading out the terms of the duel and then says they may begin, Tommen feels his heart beat quicken, and they start off with their swords locked together. Both pushing against one another trying to force the other to break, neither do though, and Tommen can see the sparks flying and he grunts with the effort but still he keeps pushing against his brother’s own sword.

Eventually through sheer strength Tommen manages to force his brother’s sword to the side, he then brings his own sword up to slash at Joffrey’s front striking a blow, his brother cries out and then snarls and begins his own attack. Joffrey is very quick, Tommen will give him that, he is quick but his swings and his strokes are very erratic, there is no motion to them and this allows Tommen to block most of them and those he does not block he is able to duck. His brother keeps at it though and eventually manages to land a hit or two, one which leaves a cut on Tommen’s face, another which hits his armour.

His brother smirks when he sees this. “Ready to submit yet?”

“Never.” Tommen growls back, and then he begins his own flurry of strokes, using his greater strength and weight to push Joffrey back, he pushes him further and further back, and his brother just about manages to defend himself. More often than not his brother gets hit and takes more and more cuts and dents to his armour, his face is also cut in two places. But still Tommen keeps pushing anger fuelling him.

Joffrey manages to get his sword up to block one of Tommen’s swings, and though his face is straining with the effort he still manages to grit out. “You know Sansa is watching this fight don’t you brother. She is watching this fight, and she wants me to win. She wants me to beat you to teach you a lesson. She does not care for you, and she never has. And Jon, Jon wants me to beat you as well. You see you are nothing but the second best, you will always be second best. You could have been so much more but your actions have brought you here.”

“For someone who claims to be such a good fighter, you talk too much. Are you sure you are not scared brother.” Tommen grits out before he pushes with his weight and forces Joffrey’s sword to fall from their deadlock.

His brother says nothing but merely advances forward and then begins swinging his sword once more. Tommen manages to block the swings, noting that as Jon had pointed out whenever he gets ready to swing his knee shakes, he uses that and feints to his left, and as Joffrey’s eyes light up, he rams his shoulder into Joffrey causing his brother to go off balance and before his brother can do anything he brings his sword up to hit Joffrey in the face. His brother stumbles backward and Tommen follows, his anger drives him and guides him toward hitting his brother’s armour repeatedly with his sword. More and more dents begin appearing in his brother’s armour and as blood begins to flow out from those dents, he wonders if perhaps he should stop, but a voice inside of his head is telling him not to.

His brother stumbles forward blood falling from his armour and from his mouth, he raises his sword in an attempt to retaliate, and Tommen swings his sword and swats his brother’s sword aside. Moving his sword to one hand, he curls the fingers on his right hand into a fist and punches his brother square in the mouth, the force of the blow forces his brother backward another punch throws him to the ground. Tommen moves to stand over his brother, and looks at him a moment, Joffrey’s eyes are wide with fear, his mouth and face are bloody, he feels nothing but contempt for his brother, and as he raises his sword he hears gasps going around the sparring yard. He says a quick prayer and then brings the sword down to the left of his brother’s head. His brother looks as though he might have wet himself, and Tommen has to hold back a laugh before he proceeds to spit on his brother’s face, before turning round and walking off.


	15. Meeting of Adults

**6 th Month of 298 A.C Winterfell**

**Ser Gerion Lannister**

The fight had been thrilling as far as Gerion was concerned, seeing his favourite nephew beat the life out of the golden shit that was his other nephew Joffrey had been something he had looked forward to for some time. Finally the lies Joffrey had said and boasted about had been shown to be just that, lies, filthy lies. The boy was badly wounded and was like to not be able to do much for some time now. There were cuts all over his face and his arms and chest, and the bleeding had continued for some time even after Maester Luwin had applied all sorts of ointments, needless to say the Queen was furious she had tried to put the blame on poor Jon Snow, but Tommen had defied her and told her she needed to apologise to Jon herself before she thought to speak with him ever again, his niece had been speechless and as such had said nothing, needless to say that she and her son were not speaking. The king had found it quite hilarious as Gerion had found out, laughing and japing about how weak one son was whilst the other was a true Baratheon even if he did not look one. That had sounded odd to Gerion and when coupled with what he had seen of his niece and nephew he was beginning to wonder.

After the battle, Lucas Corbray’s corpse had been found within one of the vats of food, and had been dragged out. Gerion knew what would be found on his body, bruises on his body and his slit throat, all signs he had been murdered. There was currently a lot of uproar because of it, the queen had ordered her son be well guarded and had had some twenty red cloaks stationed in and out of his room at all times, the Kingsguard was on high alert as well and no one was allowed to enter or leave Winterfell without either Eddard or Robert’s express permission. The Starks were clearly quite shaken, and whilst Gerion felt bad for them, he did not feel guilty for what he had done, the little shit had tried to harm his daughter and as such had paid for it with his life. Right now though, it seemed as if the king was actually trying to rule, something Gerion had gathered was all but a rarity these days. The king’s face was flushed with wine when he boomed. “Well we all know what a tragedy this is. Lucas Corbray was a good lad, who had potential. His death here in Winterfell is a huge shock and yet none of our efforts are turning up anything. We still do not know why the lad is dead and why someone would want to kill him.”

“Clearly the boy merely got in the way. No one would want to kill him, he is a mere squire. No they were looking to kill Joffrey.” The queen says.

“Are you suggesting someone from within my own household killed Corbray to get to the crown prince my queen?” Eddard asks his voice strained.

“That is exactly what I am saying my Lord of Stark. No one amongst the royal party would hurt Corbray not whilst he still served my son. And yet my son is injured and his squire is dead. Both these things occurred here in Winterfell under your watch, so you will understand why I am quite concerned.” The queen replies.

“Joffrey got his wounds fighting in a duel. He was the one who ordered the duel as we know from Ned’s boy, he claimed he could do something he could not and he suffered for it. That is not on Ned’s head it is on the boy’s own head.” Robert booms.

“He would never have felt the need to do something like that had it not been for the bastard. The bastard had been whispering in his ear about proving himself to Tommen, and Joffrey felt he needed to do it.” The queen says.

“And how do you know this Cersei? Did Joffrey tell you this?” Gerion enquires.

“Yes, of course he told me I am his mother. He said the bastard had been pressurising him into fighting Tommen, as some sort of sick and twisted way to get back at Tommen for something Tommen said to the bastard. If it had not been for the bastard, Joffrey and Tommen would never have fought.” Cersei says.

“I do not believe that for one second Cersei.” Gerion says. “Tommen and Joffrey have hated one another since the moment the royal party came to Winterfell. Joffrey has been telling lies to impress Jon, and as such he has suffered for it. That is in no way related to what happened to Lucas Corbray.”

“I know that Jon is very sad about what happened to Prince Joffrey my queen, he says that Tommen went too far.” Eddard says.

“Your bastard had best stay away from my son, otherwise he will suffer for it.” Cersei says threateningly.

“Are you threatening my son in his home my queen?” Eddard asks a hint of anger in his voice.

“No….no I am sure she is not Ned. She is a woman and is distressed. Leave it be the two of you.” Robert says quickly

“Lucas Corbray’s death is something that I wish could have been avoided but alas the lad is dead, and as such we must now try to put the pieces together. Now Lady Catelyn what news do you have on that front.” The king asks.

“There has been news Your Grace. It appears one of the guards saw Lucas Corbray with one person before his death. Ser Gerion’s daughter the Lady Joy.” Catelyn says.

“Send her in then.” Robert says gruffly.

As Ser Barristan opens the door Gerion hears Cersei say. “What is it about bastards that always brings trouble? First the Snow now the Hill. When will they ever learn their place?”

Gerion feels anger bloom inside of him but before he can respond Ned has spoken. “If you have something to say my Queen, say it now or do not speak at all.”

A long moment of tension fills the room as the Lord of Winterfell and the Queen of Westeros glare at one another, Gerion knows that Lady Catelyn is trying to soothe Ned, and he does have to marvel at how much of a fool Cersei is making of herself. When the door closes and his daughter comes in, she looks scared but as soon as she is sat by him she seems more comfortable and happy. The king looks at her then and asks. “Joy, you were the last person anyone knows of to see Lucas Corbray alive. Can you tell us what happened between the two of you?”

His daughter begins shifting uncomfortably, he takes her hand and squeezes reassuringly. His daughter looks at him with her mother’s eyes and then speaks. “I was alone in my room waiting for father to come back from the hall, we were going to speak about something or the other, when I heard a knock on the door. And I knew that it was not papa because papa does not knock, so I thought it might be someone I knew so I asked them to come in. and when the door opened it was Lucas Corbray, he stank of wine and he had this scary smile on his face.” His daughter stops then to take a breath and then continues. “He kept saying all of these strange things, about how as a bastard I had no rights, no reason to complain and that I was his present, his reward for doing so well. He came close to me and began whispering such filthy things in my ear about what a man does to a girl like me. And he tried to tear my bodice.”

Gerion is still holding his daughter’s hand but in his other hand he is clenching it tightly together anger running through him. The king and almost everyone else looks quite disturbed. “Go on girl.” The king says.

His daughter takes a deep breath and then says. “He tried to tear my bodice and he ripped some other parts of my clothing, and so I punched him in the face. And I kept punching him until he let go. After that he fled my room and that was the last I saw of him.”

Though Robert looks uncomfortable he still asks. “So to be clear Lucas Corbray tried to rape you? Did he say why he thought you were his gift or reward?”

“No Your Grace. He just kept saying his master had promised me to him.” His daughter replies before she begins to shake.

“Take her out of the room Gerion she does not need to be here now.” The king orders.

Gerion willingly complies and helps his daughter out of the room. When they are outside he says. “You did well sweetling. Do you need me to walk you back?”

“No papa, I am going to speak to Jon now.” His daughter replies wiping a tear from her eye.

“Okay sweetling, but if you need me you know where to find me.” He says before he kisses his daughter’s forehead and sends her on her way once that is done he walks back into the room to see an argument occurring between the king and queen.

“I say we speak to the bastard. He will know what actually happened, he is part of Joffrey’s squires now, he would know.” The queen says.

“For the last time woman, let it rest. The boy has already said he knows nothing and so he does not know anything.” The king snaps.

The queen stands then and says. “I should have been the one wearing the crown and you the dress.” And with that she storms past.

The king merely grunts and dismisses them all but Ned, and whilst he is relieved about that he knows there is one person who he must speak to, to ensure Cersei does not get what she wants. Gerion walks to where his nephew’s room is and seeing that the door is open walks in and sits down waiting for the boy to enter. After some time the lad does eventually enter, and when he does he looks like a scared mouse when he sees Gerion. Gerion stands then and says. “Ah Lancel, so nice to see you. I have some things I wish to speak to you about.”

“What…..what….what do you wish to speak about uncle?” his nephew sputters

Gerion moves toward his nephew and says. “The fact that just like your father you are nothing more than a very obedient servant. Doing whatever your master asks and committing all kinds of atrocities because of it. You know why Lucas Corbray was in my daughter’s room and it was not because he wanted to fuck her.”

“I…..I…..I…. do not know what you mean uncle.” His nephew stammers.

At this Gerion allows his anger to come to the fore and grabs his nephew by the neck and throws him against the wall. “Do not lie to me Lancel. You are a terrible liar, just like your father. And now I will ask you once more, what is the true reason why Lucas Corbray came to my daughter’s rooms?”

His nephew is sputtering and stammering. “He…..he…..he……he was sent there by Prince Joffrey……. Prince Joffrey wanted her…..wanted to use her……for her body parts.”

Gerion had already suspected as much but hearing it out loud only makes him angrier. “SO he was going to rape her? Is that what you are saying Lancel?”

He tightens his hold on his nephew’s throat and the boy’s eyes begin to bulge. “Yes uncle.” The boy wheezes.

His hold tightening Gerion grits his teeth and snarls. “You work for me now do you understand boy? You are going to tell me everything Joffrey does or says. Everything plot and plan he comes up with or the squires come up with you are going to tell me. And if you do not, or if you try to lie to me, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

His nephew nods, his face is going completely white now. “I did not hear you boy, do you understand?” he asks again.

He loosens the hold on the boy somewhat and his nephew wheezes. “Yes my lord.”

Gerion lets go of his nephew then and watches as he slumps to the floor. “Good. Now get out of my sight.”


	16. A Nameday

**6 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

It was finally here, his nameday was finally here, the day he turned five and ten, nearly a man grown but not quite one yet. The morning was bright and the sun was shining, he was in a very good mood. His friends were good, he was feeling good and his brother still looked like shit, yes, he was very happy with the world on the day of his birth. The morning feast was where some gifts were given, a horse from the Rills was given to him by Lord and Lady Stark, a saddle for the horse was given to him by Robb, and a book about the caring for horses came with it, as well as a tunic which had a black lion emblazoned on it for the fact he was  the black lion of his family. He was very pleased about the horse, it was a fine red stallion and he knew, he just knew he would have a special relationship with the horse, it was a special gift. The lords of the north and their families had descended upon Winterfell for the tourney that was to occur within two days of his and his brother’s nameday and as such they came bearing gifts, some great some small. Most were for him, he got a variety of daggers and other assortment of weapons from Lords Karstark, Hornwood, Bolton, Tallhart and Cerwyn. Lords Manderly and Flint were to be arriving in the afternoon as were the mountain clans. Tommen was somewhat disappointed that the clans had not come for the morning feast, he was rather looking forward to seeing old Theo Wull once more. But then again the Umbers had not yet arrived either so the afternoon feast promised to be interesting.

His brother had walked into the morning feast, or rather had had to be carried in, Sandor Clegane and Mors Rosby assisting him. His brother was heavily bandaged and his face looked a ruin, Tommen could not help but smirk when he saw his brother, the fool looked like an overstuffed lion, it was a funny sight. Of course, his brother glared at him as did their mother, and even Sansa, but Tommen found he could not care, not today, not now. Joffrey had gotten some gifts from the northern lords but of course none truly knew him nor what to get him proper, so their gifts were wasted on him. Lord Karstark had gotten Joffrey something akin to a mirror and his brother had glowered at the man but had accepted it with some thanks. Sansa had gotten Joffrey some book or something or the other, Tommen could not truly remember nor did he truly care. Things were tense between him and Sansa, especially since he was the one who had given Joffrey the beating of a lifetime, she had asked him how he could do such a thing and had refused to heed anything he had said, and as far as he was concerned she could rot in the hell of her own making.

The midday meal began with his father, the king giving a rather drunken speech. “Today marks the fifteenth day since my two sons were born to me. They came into the world bawling and screeching, and now they are both men grown, or near enough. They are everything a king could ask for in his sons, strong, confident, smart, charming and good with weapons. Let us raise a drink to my sons Prince Joffrey and Prince Tommen.”

The hall echoed the king’s toast and as Tommen drank deeply from his cup, he saw Lord Eddard stand up. “The king speaks truly. Prince Tommen came to foster here in Winterfell at the age of eight, he was a boy then, somewhat scared and shy but also inquisitive and brave. The man I see before me now, is a true man, bold, brave, strong but also kind and caring. I am proud of the man he has become. The man I have helped raise. To Prince Tommen!” his foster father raises his cup and the northern lords roar a cheer.

He blushes slightly. And then his father stands again. “Before we return to feasting, let us present our gifts. Ser Barristan the armour.” There is some murmuring as Ser Barristan nods his head and two squires bring forth a suit of armour, silver with the stag of House Baratheon on in and another two squires bring forth an antlered helm. They stop before Tommen and he hears his father say. “Tommen, my son, you remind me a lot of myself when I was your age. You are a fighter, and you know how to live life. I present you with a replica of the suit of armour I wore on the Trident the day I won the throne. It has been made to fit you my lad.”

Tommen feels his heart expand at that, he looks at his father gratefully and says. “Thank you father, truly I thank you.”

“And because you lost your sword during your fight with Tommen, Joffrey, here is your present.” The king says.

The hall goes silent, and then when a squire presents a wooden sword to Joffrey, and their father begins laughing the hall begins to laugh as well. Tommen sees his brother and his mother’s faces go white with anger and their eyes narrow. He however, is laughing with pure unrestrained joy. Gods this is funny. The hall goes silent then, and then Jon stands up and walks towards the high table, as he walks towards the high table, Tommen sees his friend look at him a moment almost pleadingly and then he looks back toward Joffrey and as he kneels Tommen hears his friend say to Joffrey. “My prince, I wish you a happy nameday and many happy returns. I present my gift to you, a dagger forged here in Winterfell.” The dagger has lions and stags on the hilt, a hilt which sparkles with iron, and gold and all kinds of other metals, and though he knows his friend has a role to play, Tommen still feels some jealousy well up within him. Joffrey accepts the gift gleefully and smirks at Tommen as he does so. Jon then turns to Tommen and takes a book from one of the squires and says. “Prince Tommen, I know you are an avid admirer of House Durrandon and so from the libraries of Winterfell I present you with a copy of the earliest known histories of House Durrandon by Maester Baldric.”

Tommen takes the book from his friend and says. “Thank you Jon I shall read and treasure it.” His friend bows and then goes back to his seat.

There is some murmuring then as various people talk about the gifts that have been given and what there still is to be given. His father stands then and says. “Does anyone else have a gift they would like to give before we move on?”

Both uncle Tyrion and uncle Gerion stand up then and say that they do and before his father can respond, the sound of footsteps are heard, and Tommen wonders who could be about to enter the hall, who could think they could get away with being so late to a feast with the king and the royal family. He gets his answer as the doors to the great hall are thrown open and there in the doorway stands a mountain of a man, tall and muscular with long brown hair, and an even longer beard, his eyes are as grey as storm clouds and his voice is even louder when he says. “Sorry I’m late. I got into a bit of a fight with some Umbers on the way ere. I haven’ [t missed much now have I?”

“You were the one who started the damned fight Wull.” A man who would normally be considered big by normal standards but who is dwarfed by the first speaker says.

“Oh don’t start now Umber. We’re already late eh. Dinae need more trouble.” Wull replies.

Both men swagger into the hall and stop before the high table bending the knee and saying their oaths and asking forgiveness for being late. More men walk in and follow them the Umbers and the men of the mountains led by Lord Jon Umber and Lord Theo Wull. Tommen looks at his father and sees him barely containing his laughter, whilst Lord Eddard looks somewhat bemused. “Stand up both of you. Now do you have gifts?” his father asks.

“Aye I do Your Grace. This here gift has been in my family for generations, and I think none are more fitting for it now than Prince Tommen, the drinking horn of the giants.” Lord Umber says presenting Tommen with a finely gilded drinking horn with the runes of the first men on it. Tommen takes the gift and thanks the Lord of Last Hearth gratefully.

His mother then asks. “What have you brought for your future king?”

“I dare say Your Grace that the future king could do with a fine shield. And so I have gotten him a shield that was once my father’s.” The Lord of Last Hearth says presenting a shield that Tommen thinks would be bigger than him even standing.

The squires take the gift from the lord of Last Hearth and then his mother turns to Theo Wull who has been grinning this whole time and asks him. “And what of you, what have you brought?”

Lord Theo, a big man and one with a wry sense of humour gestures for his sons to come forward, they carry a heavy looking object, and when Theo looks at Tommen he grins before saying. “For a son of King Robert Baratheon and in light of recent events, I thought the wee king could use some studded leather that is common in the clans.”

There is some murmuring at this and Tommen knows his mother and brother are cursing under their breaths they accept the gift though and it is added to the pile. Theo then looks at him and grins.  “For Magnar Tommen, we have brought a gift that only a true man can have. A living representation for the black lion on his tunic.” Theo takes a bundle from the arms of his other son and removes the cover and Tommen gasps when he sees what is there. “A Black Mountain Lion for our Magnar, from the mountains of Wull. A cub for you Magnar.”

Theo is on bended knee now as he raises the lion cub up, the cub is awake and staring at him with its golden eyes, and instantly he feels a connection. He walks down from the High Table and takes the cub from Theo thanking him as he does so. He continues looking at the cub as he walks back to the high table all through the remaining gifts, some Lannister clothing from his mother, a book from his uncle Tyrion a circlet from Joy, none of those hold his attention like the cub in his arms does. The cub is staring up at him with its golden eyes and he wonders if this how the Starks felt when they held their direwolf cubs the first time. An instant bond, an instant connection a feeling as if he has been made whole. He knows his brother is angry he can practically feel the anger glowing off of him, but he does not care.

There is a cough then and Tommen looks up from his cub to see his uncle Gerion standing up then smiling. “Whilst I do not mean to distract you from your new pet my prince, there is one more gift I have to give. For many hundreds of years, ever since King Tommen Lannister sailed across the seas to Valyria, the Lannister sword Brightroar has been lost and we have looked far and wide for it. But we were looking in the wrong place, and as such it was found deep within its home. It must go to someone of Lannister blood worthy of wielding it, and I believe you are that warrior my prince. I present you with Brightroar.” His uncle takes the sword from his back and walks before him and bends a knee before presenting the sword to him.

Tommen stares at his uncle in wonder, and as if in a dream he gives his cub to Ser Arys to hold and takes the sword from his uncle. It feels as if it was made to fit into his hands, he draws the sword out of its sheath slightly and stares at it in wonder. As he is about to thank his uncle, his mother speaks. “That sword should by rights, be in my father’s possession as head of house Lannister. And if not him, then Jaime or Joffrey should wield it, they are both older than Tommen and more deserving.”

The whispering that was already present beforehand increases at his mother’s words, Tommen feels hurt by what she has said but before he can respond, his uncle Tyrion speaks. “Tommen is as much a Lannister as Joffrey or Jaime sweet sister. And he is the better fighter after all. Some might say he has earned that sword, whereas Joffrey has not.”


	17. Queen Lion

**6 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Queen Cersei Lannister**

They had been here for a moon now, and in that time Cersei had come to loathe her husband and everything about the north. She hated how her husband seemed to have become more alive here than he had been in King’s Landing, how he spent more time with Tommen than he had done with Joffrey over the past fifteen years. She hated how her second son was more a barbarian than a true prince, he seemed to prefer the company of these savages then her and his brother and their own people and that was something she could not understand. What was it about these savages that made them so appealing to her son and her husband that made them forget where they truly came from? And then there was that duel, a duel she was convinced the bastard had talked her sons into fighting, the bastard was a treacherous little snark and she would have him punished, Joffrey had barely recovered from the beating Tommen had given him and the humiliations of the nameday feast. The insolence of the northmen giving more things to a second son than the future king of Westeros that was something she would not forget nor forgive when her son came to the throne. Then there was the fact that her uncle, her absolute bastard of an uncle had rubbed salt into the wounds by giving their family sword to Tommen, the son who did not deserve it, the sword that should have been Joffrey’s or Jaime’s gods she wanted her uncle dead.

Her son though was being quite stubborn and insistent about the bastard. “I know Jon did not betray me mother. He would not dream of doing so, for I can give him the things he holds most dear, and desires the most. A legitimisation and a chance to earn a name for himself.”

“And yet he has not yet visited you here. He did not visit you before the nameday feast nor has he visited you since. I do not believe your control over him is as completely as you think sweetling.” Cersei replies.

“It is mother, he has been remaining with Tommen and the Stark boy under my orders. He is learning all he can about what they are planning and plotting and is passing that information onto me through the squires. Lancel came to see me before you did, it seems they have been discussing Lucas’s murder.” Her son responds.

Cersei straightens at this and asks. “And what did Lancel have to say about it?”

Her son grimaces. “Nothing much truth be told. The only thing that it seems Jon has been able to gleam from it is that Gerion believes it a shame that Lucas had to die and that it is a good thing that Lyonel Corbray is indebted to father, otherwise there would be trouble.”

At this an idea begins to form in her head. “Of course Gerion would consider that. The Corbrays are related to the Starks, through some marriage relatively recently, Corbray has no heir now apart from his brother Lyn. This could be a way to cause trouble for Stark, when he comes south. I shall consider it in further detail before acting on it though.”

“How could this be of any use to us mother?” Joffrey asks. “The Corbrays are nothing, they are not important.”

“Not in the wider scheme of things no. but when it comes to Eddard Stark and the Vale they most certainly are. I do not trust Stark and neither should you, the more trouble he has facing him in the south the sooner he will be forced to leave. That is why I say we should speak to the bastard.” Cersei presses.

“And again I say there is no need to. Jon had nothing to do with the fight beyond actually saying it would be a good way to punish Tommen. Clearly Tommen has more brains than we both first thought and there is a darkness inside of him that must needs be dealt with. How is the question?” Joffrey responds.

“I still believe that the bastard must be questioned. He has been friends with your brother since they were both very young, that is something that does not go away all that easily. It is very likely he is working for your brother now. We must question him and ascertain whether or not he is still loyal.” Cersei continues to insist.

Her son moves slightly and grimaces in pain. “I am telling you mother, Jon Snow is my man. He is doing what I tell him to do, if he is saying anything to Tommen it is what I have told him to say. He knows who gives him the most and what he could gain from remaining loyal to me. He will not turn his coat.”

“He is a bastard though.” Cersei reminds her son. “What will you do if he begins to dig his heels in and refuses to do something you ask of him?”

Her son smiles slyly then. “He will not and he cannot do that. I made him swear an oath to always obey what I asked of him. He is a son of Eddard Stark his honour means more to him than his conscious, he will be honour bound because of the oath he swore to do whatever it is I ask of him. And I intend to make sure that oath is tested, to see just how loyal he is.”

“And how will you do that sweetling?” Cersei asks something akin to fear growing inside of her at how malevolent her son looks right now.

“If he is truly loyal, and I mean truly loyal and is a man of true honour he will do anything, anything I ask of him because of the oath he swore and as such I will ask him to give up  apart of himself and give it to me.” Her son replies.

“How will you do this?” she asks.

Her son smiles slyly once more. “I will ask him to give me his direwolf’s head.”

There is a moment’s silence as Cersei contemplates what her son has just said and then she says. “A clever plan, for if the boy is truly loyal to you and takes his oath seriously he will have no other choice but to do as you ask. But you cannot ask him to do it here in Winterfell, not with all of these northmen around. No you must ask him to do it in a place where there are only men and people loyal to us, the way south is when you must do it. You must insist the boy come south and then ask him to do it then.”

Her son nods. “I have thought about that. It does make the most sense mother. Though asking him to do it here in the north in front of all the northmen and him actually doing it as such would be somewhat satisfying it would show that he is truly my man, and it would show these barbarians that their ways are slowly dying.”

Cersei considers this a moment and whilst she can appreciate why her son entertained the thought she can also see the ramifications of allowing such a thing to occur. “It would also create a very tense situation with the northern lords and their men, making it much harder for you to call on their loyalty should you ever need it. Making the bastard do the deed in the south is far better.”

Her son nods. “I agree mother. So you promise you will not pursue the matter with Jon? I have it under control I do not need your interference now, not when I am so close to having him brought under my service fully. I do not want to have that endangered especially after the scene at the nameday feast.”

Cersei nods. “Very well then sweetling if that is your wish.”

Before she can leave though her son grabs her hand and asks. “Why is that Tommen was given a lion and Brightroar? How is that possible? He is the younger brother, I should have those things.”

Cersei sees the hurt and pain on her son’s face and she feels her heart ache. She takes his hand then and says. “The lion is more dangerous to Tommen than to us sweetling. The lion will realise Tommen is no true lion and will soon come to you. I know it will, you are a true lion, your brother is too much of a savage. As for Brightroar, it might be the sword of house Lannister, but you will be given a much greater sword than that, the sword of the true kings of Westeros.”

Her son looks at her with hopeful eyes. “I will?”

“Yes sweetling, the sword of kings shall be yours,. The whole world shall be yours soon enough. And then you can have whatever and whoever you want.” She responds.

“How do you know mother?” her son asks sounding like a small boy once more.

She leans toward him then and says softly. “Because you are my son, and because we shall not let anyone stand in your way. We are lions and we always get what we want.” Her son nods and smiles then and when it becomes clear he will say nothing more t she gives her son a kiss on the forehead and then with Jaime accompanying her she walks out of her son’s room.

The moment she and her brother are out of the room Jaime looks at her and says. “You are not going to let the matter with Jon Snow rest are you?”

Cersei snorts. “Of course not, I am no fool. The bastard clearly knows what is happening, he knows exactly what happened at that feast and I intend to find out. We have two cousins acting as squires for Joffrey it is time we actually used them. They shall tell me what they find out about Snow and what he knows. There is something he is not telling us.”

Though they are walking, Cersei can tell her brother is not completely sure. “I do not know, I am not sure whether the bastard has it in him to lie about something like this. He did seem genuinely concerned when Joffrey was injured during the fight. A fight that should never have been fought.”

“Concern can be feigned Jaime, after all these years living in King’s Landing if you do not know that by now you are more ignorant than I thought. No there is something more here, this smells of a plot our uncle would have made. Something tells me he is the one pulling the strings and the bastard is the one dancing to the tune he plays. We must figure out more about what happened to Corbray and we must use that.” She replies.

“Use it how? The Corbrays are Arryn men through and through and Lyonel Corbray is too scared of Robert to do anything to oppose him or Stark.” Jaime asks.

“Ah but we have Littlefinger the man has gold a plenty and the Corbrays always need gold, if we can give them the right price they can cause trouble for Arryn’s brat and his crazy wife and we can have Stark unsettled when he comes south.” Cersei replies.

“What of the girl? The girl still seems to be firmly enchanted with Joffrey that could be used could it not?” Jaime asks.

“The girl?” Cersei asks before she remembers Sansa Stark and her true bred concern for Joffrey. “Yes it most certainly could, the girl wants to be queen and she wants to be Joffrey’s queen, that will make her do whatever it takes to remain as such, even if it means giving up on her whole family. Yes she will be very useful in the moons to come.”

“What of Tommen?” Jaime asks, and for the first time Cersei can hear genuine concern in her brother’s voice and it does somewhat grate on her.

“Tommen is a lost cause let him stay here with his savages and barbarians. It makes no matter to me.” Cersei says dismissively.

“Now that is a change of opinion for one such as you dearest niece.” A voice says and soon enough there before them stands their uncle Gerion a smile on his face. “One would have thought you would have wanted your sons to be completely Lannister, gods alone knows that your eldest is.”

“Joffrey is a true Lannister and will make a fine king when his time comes. He knows the value of family and duty above all else. Unlike Tommen whom you have turned into a savage.” Cersei responds curtly

“Joffrey is a monster and if you cannot see that, you are a blind fool. Your son would have brought turmoil to the Starks had he been allowed to continue. That duel is the best thing to have happened to him.” Her uncle snaps back.

“So you admit to playing a part in it do you then uncle?” she asks.

“I admit to no such thing niece. Your eldest son told so many lies one of them was bound to come back and bite him. The lies about his sword fighting most definitely did. Unless he learns from that, he will never be fit to sit the iron throne. The realm will not stand for another Aerys.” Her uncle says.

She slaps her uncle then and bites out. “How dare you, how dare you say that. My son is more of a man than you. You who abandon your kith and kin for some savages and a whore. You are no Lannister, you are nothing but a conniving rat.”

“I would rather be that, than an attempted replica of Tywin. You will bring nothing but destruction to those you care for Cersei. The frog was right.” Her uncle says.

Fear clutches at Cersei’s heart, the darkest secret of hers, that she has kept hidden all these years. How could her uncle know of it? “I know not what you speak of uncle.” She says trying to keep calm though her heart is hammering.

Her uncle’s response is soft when he replies. “You know full well what I mean. End this betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa otherwise the words the witch spoke might well come true.” And with that he walks off leaving Cersei feeling very worried.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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	18. Tourney

**6 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

Today was the day he would show his brother and his mother just how much of a warrior he was. Today was the day of the tourney, the biggest tourney Winterfell had ever seen. Young men had come from all over the north to compete, there would be jousting and a melee, and Tommen was quietly confident that he could win both. He was by far the best lance in the north, which was not surprising, considering just how little such things were done here, and he knew out of all the young people competing he was the best swordsman, with Brightroar in his possession there was no way he could not win. Originally the tourney was supposed to be open to all comers, and yet his mother had put it down to only allowing young men under the age of twenty five to compete, therefore meaning that the Smalljon was just about able to compete as his twenty fifth nameday was not for another three moons. Yes, Tommen was truly excited for day.

He broke his fast on a feast, bacon, eggs, bread, meat and other assortments of food were had, and a healthy amount of ale was drunk. He was in such a good mood he did not really pay attention to anything his brother said, his taunts and his japes went right over Tommen’s head, which was a good thing as if he had heard them he would have more than likely hit his brother there and then. That Joffrey was determined to take part in the jousting was clearly his attempt to get back at Tommen for their duel, his brother still looked like a sight for sore eyes and as such the mere fact that Sansa was still hovering around him even though he had become such a nuisance simply annoyed him now instead of angering him. He laughed with Tyrek about the fact that Robb seemed enchanted with Myrcella and the fact that Joy herself seemed to be drawn to Jon. Jon it seemed was settling down well into his role as their informant within Joffrey’s camp, telling them of all the lies and boasts the boy was making. Gods his brother really was an idiot, he spoke so freely and with such menace that Tommen was surprised he was not actually a snake and that he could contain all the nonsense he said.

Then again his brother was also seemingly the paragon of virtue, so he supposed this contradiction was one he had worked on for some time. Their father was already quite drunk by the time they managed to get to the ground where the jousting was to be held. His father stood up swaying slightly and managed to say. “My lords and ladies, thank you for coming. Today we begin the tourney to celebrate my sons Prince Tommen and Prince Joffrey namedays. The first joust is between Robb Stark the heir of Winterfell and Mors Rosby heir to Rosby.”

A cheer went up as Robb rode forth to take a favour from Myrcella with Tommen smirking at the sight. Durran his little black lion purring in his lap, Durran was growing quite quickly and his golden eyes were always alert. To say Tommen was enraptured by his cub was understating things as far as Tommen was concerned, he felt as if he was tied in some deep way to his little lion cub, the cub he had named for Durran Godsgrief after a night of reading the book Jon had given him. He stroked the cub’s fur as he watched Robb go to his post and Mors go to his, when the herald announced the start of the tourney, all went silent as Robb and Mors rode up to meet. Their lances hit the other’s shield and they turned round to meet once more. Another pass went, and then another, and then another, on the fifth or sixth pass and still the first lance Robb’s lance hit Mors Rosby square on the chest and knocked him from his horse.

The crowd cheered loudly for the heir to Winterfell and Tommen smiled. He leaned over slightly and then said to his brother. “I believe that is one to me brother.”

His brother merely snarled. “Lancel shall best the savage he is up against brother have no worry.”

Tommen laughed at that, and as the herald announced his cousin Lancel and the person he was going up against as Torrhen Manderly who was the son of Wendel Manderly, Tommen was sure he saw his cousin’s arms shake. The two competitors met in the middle Torrhen’s lance hitting Lancel square in the chest, after a moment of wobbling his cousin landed square on his arse. Tommen burst out laughing and the herald announced victory to Torrhen. Tommen looked at his brother and merely held out two fingers. His brother grimaced and turned away. His brother smiles then when the herald announces Jon. “Ah brother I do believe that this one will be mine.”

“I would not be so sure brother,” Tommen replies. “Jon is good with a sword but not with a lance. And besides Domeric is no slouch.” Even as he said those words he hoped that Jon would win.

Jon and Domeric were at their respective posts as Tommen looked around the stall where he was sat, Joy looked pensive, it was her favour Jon was wearing, whilst the Boltons looked merely apathetic, not caring one way or another, they were a strange family. His musings were stopped when the herald called for them to begin and they met in a crash, Jon’s lance glanced off of Domeric’s shield, and whilst Domeric’s lance hit Jon in the chest, his friend wobbled but remained seated. They turned and came for the second pass, and this time Domeric and Jon shattered their lances on the other’s shield. They were given new lances, and then met again, this time Domeric’s lance shattered on Jon’s shield whilst Jon’s lance hit Domeric in the chest. The heir to the Dreadfort was given another lance and the two wheeled round to face one another, this time Domeric was knocked down, his arse landing on the ground with a distinct thud. The crowd cheered and Jon dismounted to help Domeric back up. Tommen saw his Cousin Joy smiling at this. Tommen saw his brother look at him grinning and heard him say. “That’s one to me brother.” _Oh one to you, but you will lose him before the night is up_. Tommen thought.

Tommen watched as others in his camps began winning their jousts, there was Smalljon who looked somewhat bigger than his horse soundly beating a terrified Tywin Frey in two turns, Bennard Wull beat Lucion Lannister in three tilts something that had Theo Wull roaring in delight. Torrhen Karstark beat his brother Eddard in five tilts. Of course there were successes for his brother’s friends as well. Hendry Bracken beat Roose Ryswell in some three tilts before beating Theon Greyjoy in two. Then Tommen watched as his brother went up against Denys Smallwood a member from court, and had him on the ground after one tilt though Tommen was convinced Smallwood just threw himself onto the ground.

Eventually it was Tommen’s turn to face the lists, and so giving Durran to Robb he stretched and then with help from Alric Snow the bastard of Wull he put on the silver armour his father had given him. The armour felt comfortable on him and he liked how it seemed to mould itself to his body. He mounted the red stallion he had been given, and took a lance, he was going up against Malcolm Massey the heir to Stonedance. Tommen felt his nerves begin to quicken as the herald announced the beginning of his joust and as he got closer and closer to Massey his nerves began to grow until he felt his lance smash against Massey’s shield whilst Massey’s own lance crashed against his shield.  They both wheeled around and began again this time Tommen managed to duck a thrust of the lance and hit Massey on his arm the speed knocking Massey from his horse. He breathed a sigh of relief as he acknowledged his victory.

He watches as Robb beats Torrhen Karstark in some four tilts advancing through to the next round. Jon beats Smalljon Umber in three tilts, and Joffrey beats Dedrick Smallwood brother to Denys beating him in three tilts, though his brother very nearly falls to the ground after the second tilt. Torrhen Manderly loses to Hendry Bracken in six tilts, an exciting contest that, one which has the crowd on their feet when it comes to an end. Tommen finds himself going up against Bennard Wull the son of Wull. He likes Bennard the lad who is nine and ten is tall and looks somewhat like his father, but there is a rogueness to him that there is not to his father. They break two lances against one another’s shields, their third tilt sees both of them nearly fall off of their horses at one stage or another, their fourth tilt sees them smashing into one another quite by accident, all the while Wull is laughing. It is on their fifth tilt that Tommen beats Wull by crouching low and digging his lance in, the man falls of his horse onto the ground and the crowd cheers.

Hendry Bracken loses in two tilts to Joffrey, and considering how dangerous he had looked, Tommen feels he is right in suspecting that perhaps the Bracken lad threw away his chance. Robb soundly beats his opponent in two tilts, whilst Jon beats his in one, knocking the lad from his horse and when a sickening crunch is heard the tourney is stopped momentarily, as the body is moved from the grounds. A sombre atmosphere follows this, as Tommen goes up against Delwood Asgood, he beats the man in four passes knocking him square on his arse, the crowd cheers and the match ups for the penultimate round are announced, Robb and Jon shall go against one another, whilst Tommen shall face his brother. That Joffrey is even in the penultimate round surprises Tommen, though he supposes he should not be too surprised his brother has not gone against serious competition.

There is a lot of murmuring, a lot of excitement amongst the crowd as the two young wolves come against each other. Robb, Tommen knows is the better lance, and yet Jon has more cunning to him. The herald announces that they might begin and so they charge at one another. Robb’s lance hits Jon’s shield, whilst Jon’s lance misses Robb by a mere inch. They turn round and continue, and the same thing happens except in reverse, Jon’s lance hits Robb’s shield and Robb’s lance misses Jon by an inch. They circle back and go for it once more, both lances hit shields then, and again and again, it seems the brothers know one another so well they are able to predict what the other is going to do before it is done. Lances break and the joust goes on and on, eventually with a good timed hit to his chest Jon falls from his horse and Tommen lets loose a cheer of appreciation for a good game.

Next it is him against Joffrey, and though his brother swaggers down to where his horse is, bearing a favour he got from his betrothed, Tommen wonders if his brother knows truly what he is doing, and if not, then he will be made to look a full. Tommen smiles as he puts on his helmet and takes his lance. He waits for the herald to signal the beginning and once the man does, he spurs his horse on and raises his lance ready to hit his brother as hard as he can. His brother’s lance misses him by a mile and his own lance hits Joffrey square in the chest knocking him to the floor, Tommen rides forward and then circles back and after handing his lance off to Alric opens his visor and says. “You are supposed to fight back brother not fall at the first hurdle.” His brother glowers and then storms of and Tommen laughs.

And now it is the final hurdle, the final tilt, he against Robb. His friend has Myrcella’s favour and Tommen has no ones. He does not care though he is determined to win, nothing will stop him. He merely smiles at Robb before they both mount their horses and take their lances, a moment silence and then they both charge. They miss one another on the first pass, they circle round and on the second pass, and their lances cross and entangle, only to untangle themselves. On the third pass their lances break against one another’s shields. The second tilt sees Tommen and Robb make some four or five passes against one another before they break their lances on the shields. The third tilt is much the same, the fourth tilt again produces the same. The fifth tilt sees a different result, as so often happens it seems, Robb loses his concentration on the third pass and Tommen is able to get his lance just low enough to sneak past his friend’s shield and to hit him on the side, jostling Robb, and when they come back for the fourth pass Tommen probes it again pushing him further off of the saddle. The fifth pass sees Robb fall, his grip weakened. There is silence and then the crowd cheers, Tommen does a round of the ground and then collects the crown of winter roses, and he circles the ground once more before planting the laurel in the lap of Sansa, his queen of love and beauty.

There is a moment’s silence and Sansa looks up at him then and he looks at her and then she blushes and he winks and then rides off. He knows his brother and mother will be fuming but he cares not, the crowd is applauding and cheering, and as he dismounts from his horse his friends greet him and applaud him. His father declares him the winner and preparations are made for the melee. Tommen sits in his tent then, waiting for the melee to start, cleaning his armour and simply thinking. Sansa looks very beautiful today, her hair done into a simple northern braid, her cheeks rosy, her lips….. Gods he closes his eyes then to try and stop himself from dreaming about her and something he cannot have.

Eventually Alric comes and tells him that the melee ground is ready. The terms of the fighting are simple, those who are knocked down are out, and the last man standing wins. There are many competitors for the melee, Smalljon, Jon and Robb amongst them. Tommen has Brightroar drawn and ready and when his father calls for the melee to begin his heart is hammering in his chest. It is a rush, a mad rush, just as Uncle Gerion described it as being, he comes across Mors Rosby first, the brute swinging a mace, and he takes a blow, and then another blow but remains standing. When Rosby tries to hit him a third time he brings Brightroar up and blocks the mace. Using his strength and sheer will power he knocks Rosby’s mace aside and then begins knocking him to the ground. Rosby out, more to come.

He fights more and more men, sometimes three at once, swinging and blocking, dancing around the ground trying his hardest to avoid getting knocked down or losing his grip on Brightroar. He knocks down Dedrick Smallwood knocking the boy unconscious, he badly wounds Lancel forcing the rat to leave for fear of death. He hits Domeric Bolton hard enough to leave the heir to the Dreadfort reeling and needing attention. Roose Ryswell puts up a fight, swinging and slashing, and Tommen takes a great few blows from him before he finally manages a feint and then shoves his shoulder into the man forcing him to the ground. The push continues, there are fewer men left now, but they are fighting all the harder and more determined.

He takes a fair few blows going up against Torrhen and Eddard Karstark but manages to knock them both down to the ground and force their submission, he goes up against Smalljon after that and nearly loses his head once or twice. He breaks the man though, knocks his greatsword from his hand and forces him to submit. More people are removed from the melee due to injury, defeat or death, and the push continues. Now there are only three of them left, Robb and Jon and he. Tommen waits on the cusp as he watches Robb and Jon batter away at one another, and even before Jon feints and slams his shoulder into Robb he knows his friend will do it. When it happens Robb stumbles and then drops to his knees surrendering. A groan and a cheer echo out around the grounds. And now it is just Jon and him. They circle one another, watching and waiting, seeing who will break first. Tommen does so first, swinging Brightroar like his life depends on it.

Jon advances backward leading him toward a place where Jon can then fight back from, and Tommen follows for a period swinging and missing, until they get near the edge of the ground, and then he draws back. Jon wondering why follows him, Tommen circles backward and then lunges forward swinging his sword and attacking Jon with all the ferocity he has within him. Swinging and hacking, Jon blocks and then retaliates and their dance continues for some time, swinging, hacking, blocking and moving backward. Backwards and forwards that becomes the pattern, there is nothing else here except for him and Jon, no one else there for him to beat, and as such he is lucky, his strength allows him to keep pushing even when Jon is tiring and slowing down. He knocks his friend’s sword from his hand and puts the tip of Brightroar at his friend’s throat and asks. “Do you surrender?”

“Yes.” Jon replies, they are both caked in dirt and blood, but Tommen smiles lowers his sword and then sheathes it before taking Jon’s hand and raising it.

The crowd roars and cheers, the wolves howl, his father stands and says. “Let us cheer for Prince Tommen winner of the tourney of Winterfell!” he knows they will be celebrating hard tonight.


	19. A Feast 2

**6 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Robb Stark**

The tourney had been a great success, the young northmen who had competed in the tourney had done themselves and their houses proud. They had competed with honour and with dignity which was more than could be said for the southerners with their elaborate suits of armour and elaborate gestures, none apart from Tommen and perhaps Hendry Bracken had any true substance to them. Tommen had won the jousting and the melee because of his skill, something Robb was ready to accept, and his friend deserved the victory after all the hard times he had faced since his family had come to Winterfell. Joffrey on the other hand had sulked and moaned after being beaten in the jousting, the crown prince was not sat sulking next to his mother the Queen, who was looking as if she might very well hurt anyone who came too close to her or her son. The queen seemed to be a cold woman, she never smiled, and never laughed she only seemed to glare at them all, looking at them as if wondering why she had to deal with them and why she even had to be here. Something that seemed to Robb to be a complete contrast to her husband, the king. King Robert it seemed thoroughly enjoyed his time here in the north, drinking, laughing and wenching with the northern lords, particularly the Greatjon and Theo Wull, they were causing all kinds of trouble and merriment and Robb could not help but laugh at their antics.

And then there was Jon, his brother, who because of the way things worked now had to sit by Prince Joffrey’s side if he wished to partake in events at the High Table. His brother looked absolutely miserable as he listened to the prince prattle on about something whilst the prince’s squires laughed and japed. Jon had told him before the feast that Prince Joffrey was truly unhappy with how things had occurred at the tourney and that he had thought to win. That he had lost to Tommen was only rubbing salt in the wounds, according to Jon, the prince was still looking for a way to get back at his brother, and as it were according to Jon things were getting more and more desperate, with the crown prince looking for ways to undermine Tommen that either seemed crazy or down right absurd from how Jon had described them. And of course there was the fact that Lucas Corbray was dead, something that still caused a lot of tension in Winterfell, Lord Corbray had been sending ravens to father asking for an explanation one which father had not been able to give him, for they still did not know who had killed the boy. The prince it seemed had begun acting much more suspicious around those outside his group and had even once or twice suggested Jon prove his loyalty to him by killing Ghost. The mere thought of that made Robb angry and nervous, he leaned under the table and touched Greywind’s head for reassurance.

“I cannot believe my brother asked Jon even half seriously whether or not he would be willing to kill Ghost to prove his loyalty to him.” Tommen says by his right hand side, his voice laced with disgust.

“There is something wrong with the crown prince. I think we all knew that, but this, this is just wrong. Asking to kill Ghost would be like asking Jon to remove a part of his own body. Gods alone knows what the crown prince was thinking.” Robb responds.

“More than likely he was not. I do not think Joffrey thinks the things he says through. That he later said he was only jesting to Jon, confirms for me that he was quite serious about what he was asking, and yet he knew that that would be pushing it too far. This looks like something my mother would suggest.” Tommen responds.

“What makes you say that Tom?” Robb asks. “You don’t think your mother would truly try to get Joffrey to do something as heinous as that?”

His friend sighs. “I do not know any more Robb. Ever since the duel she has not been looking upon us and our friendship with the best of eyes. I know that she truly believes Jon had something to do with Lucas Corbray’s death. And the continuing problems that are coming from that, well they smell of her.”

Robb takes a sip of ale and then says. “I have noticed that your mother does not seem to let something go if she truly believes it could be of use to her. Though how this whole problem could be beneficial to her I do not see. After all Lucas was Joffrey’s squire and therefore Joffrey’s’ responsibility. That he died here, whilst shocking, cannot be blamed on my father or my family. It was something that occurred and clearly the person had reason to want Lucas dead.”

“That is how any rational person would see it.” His friend responds. “And yet I think we both know that my mother is not the most rational of people. Especially when it comes to Joffrey. The golden haired shit has some sort of hold over my mother that makes her blind to his faults.”

“Surely she must realise that he is partly, or most assuredly to blame for the wounds he suffered. After all he was the one who challenged you to the duel. You did not challenge him. You only did that you believed to be the right thing.” Robb suggests.

His friend takes a sip of ale and then says. “You would think so would you not? But then again I do not think my mother completely approves of me, and who I have become. I think she thinks that because I do not prance around in red and gold that I am not truly her son. She fails to realise that I have a father as well.”

A purr brings his friend’s lion Durran to Robb’s attention. “Well I mean I do not think she has completely forgotten you Tommen, after all you do have a living sigil of her house as your companion.”

His friend laughs then and says. “Aye that is true, still I do not think she approves. I got Brightroar, and Durran and her precious golden prince has gotten nothing. A shame really, if Joffrey actually tried I think he would be a good person, but of course mother has him thinking we are all their enemies.”

His friend shakes his head then and Robb asks. “And why is that? Why does she think that way Tommen? How do you even know that is what she thinks?”

Before his friend responds, Tyrek speaks for the first time. “Because that is how she has always been. I heard it from Tyrion that Queen Cersei is always going on about how our family is the greatest thing since water was discovered. And she always seems to think that the Lannisters must come first. She does not realise it takes more than one family to rule a realm. At least that is what cousin Tyrion said. And I mean Lancel and his brothers are the same, all about the family name and how Lannisters are supposedly better than everyone else.”

Robb looks at his friend then and asks. “What made you different then Tyrek? You are a Lannister, and your father was a fierce fighter was he not?”

His friend snorts. “I grew up here, with my uncle as my teacher. There was not a chance that I could end up like my cousins. Not that I would want to anyway, there is too much wrong with their way of thinking to sit well with me. Besides I am not the only one who is normal. I mean look at Myrcella, then again you have been doing so for a while now haven’t you Robb?” his friend grins at that and Robb blushes.

“Aye, so what if I have, Princess Myrcella is a kind and charming young lady.” Robb replies.

“Who is also very beautiful, she has all of her mother’s looks but none of her temper.” Tyrek responds.

Robb blushes and he feels Tommen nudging him. “You’re blushing Robb clearly what Tyrek is saying is true. You’ve got feelings for her don’t you?”

There is no anger in his friend’s voice only curiosity. Robb is silent a moment and then responds. “So what if I do?”

He hears Prince Tommen sigh then. “Then go for it. Ask for her hand, I am sure my father would be more than willing to allow you two to marry. After all it is clear she likes you as well. What is there stopping you?”

“What is stopping Robb from doing what?” he hears Myrcella ask, and he blushes something fierce when he turns round and sees her standing there looking so very beautiful.

“I….I….I…. nothing my princess.” Robb stammers wondering why he has suddenly turned into a tongue tied boy.

“Truly?” Myrcella asks her eyebrows rising. “For it seemed as if it were something very serious that you were talking about.”

Robb’s blush only increases and before he can respond Tommen says. “Oh it was sweet sister, it most definitely was. For it concerns you and Robb.”

Robb glowers at his friend and hears Myrcella ask. “Oh? And what pray tell what this is  all about then Tommen?”

Robb looks at his friend then and asks. “Yes, please do tell us what this is about Tommen. For I too would like to know.”

His friend blushes slightly, and Robb swears he can hear Durran purr in discontent. Eventually his friend manages to say. “Well you and Robb seem to have become quite close sweet sister. I was merely saying to Robb that if he wished to ask for your hand, then he would have my blessing.”

Robb sees Myrcella blush, an endearing sight. “Well brother, I thank you for your blessing, and though it is rather sweet, it might not truly be needed. You see our father is king, and he is also the head of our house and so should Robb want to ask for my hand in marriage he would have to go to father first.” She pauses and then looks at him uncertainly. “That is of course if he wants to marry me….”

“I…I….I…” Robb stammers out.

Before he can get a clear response in the King has stood up and is calling for silence. The king is obviously quite drunk, and as such it seems has to pause for a moment before he speaks. “I thank you all for coming. The tourney was something spectacular that my son Prince Tommen won both the jousting and the melee, I feel justifies my pride in the boy.” The king pauses and Robb knows his friend is blushing beside him. “Now, as you all know my eldest son and heir Prince Joffrey is betrothed to Lady Sansa Stark, Ned’s eldest daughter, and a fine lady she is, a woman of fine courtesy and manners. She is also very beautiful, and finally the marriage between Baratheon and Stark that has so long been desired has been achieved.”  The king pauses again and takes a deep swig of wine. “Now, I have noticed some thins whilst I have been here. The north is a land filled with strong and hardy people, people who are loyal to a fault. You have been kind to me and my family, and as such I feel that another royal marriage is not asking for too much.” Robb feels his heart begin to beat a bit quicker as he thinks he knows what the king is going to say next, Myrcella is now stood beside him looking at him as well and he feels his skin heat. The king continues. “My daughter Myrcella is the fairest maiden in the realm at three and ten, she has just recently flowered and so I do believe she would make no finer a match than that of the heir to Winterfell. Robb Stark.”

Silence and then the hall erupts into cheers, and Robb feels himself being congratulated by many different faces and words, he feels Myrcella take his hand and he looks at her and smiles, and when she smiles back he feels as if this could well be the best day of his life.


	20. Hunting

**6 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

Things had gone very well for him over the past few days, he had won the tourney, winning the melee and the joust, he had started making things right with Sansa, starting through crowning her queen of love and beauty, and now Robb was soon to be his brother through marriage. Tommen had been quite surprised during the feast when father had announced the betrothal between Robb and Myrcella, he had been very pleased though, two of the people he cared about the most in the world were to be married and they would be family now, for real. He was very happy about that, and though he knew mother was not happy about it, Tommen found he could not truly bring himself to care about what his mother thought, not now, and perhaps not ever again. His mother had made it clear through her time in Winterfell which son she preferred. Joffrey was always the one getting the praise and her attention, she cared more for some insignificant thing that Joffrey had done, than the many great things he had done. She had actually criticised him for not allowing Joffrey to win the tourney, had his brother been good enough to win on his own merits he would not have needed others to throw their games away, but he had and Tommen had paid for pointing that out to his mother.

His father on the other hand it seemed was more than willing to spend time with him. His father spoke with him more often, had actually taken an active interest in what he liked and what he did not like. His father was spending this time with him, and for the first time in a long time Tommen was glad to be a Baratheon, for so long he had wanted to be a Stark but under his father’s guidance and through speaking with his father, he was proud he was a Baratheon. His father was a good man, beneath all the fat and the bluster, his father truly was a good man, and Tommen was sure that if his father did actually put his mind to it, he could be a good king. Perhaps with Lord Stark going south with him, he could become the king he was supposed to be. As for Myrcella, well she spent most of her time with Robb, speaking with him and walking with him, they were quite sickly cute with one another, Tommen was very happy for them and that Greywind seemed to act like a little puppy around her seemed to only reinforce the view that they were meant to be together.

Then there was Sansa, after the harsh words they had exchanged before and after the duel, Tommen had nearly given up hope of ever truly getting her back. She seemed to be so enthralled to his brother, that he feared her lost and gone. And then something had happened, he had noticed it at the feast for the tourney, his brother and Sansa were not talking in fact they barely looked at one another. And so he had spoken to her and they had said their apologies to one another and begun speaking once more. She seemed to adore Durran, and his little lion cub who was growing quickly seemed to adore her as well as her direwolf Lady. Gods he was happy to have Sansa back in his life, he did not know what would happen or what he would do if he did not, he…gods he did not want to think on it. Things were still somewhat uneasy between them, but he was sure that with what time was left to them they could make things work, he wanted to believe that they could, he needed to.

Of course he could not spend all the time wondering and worrying about things with Sansa. His father had decided to go for a hunt in the Wolfswood and as such Tommen and his brother as well as Lord Eddard and Robb and the other members of the court had come, Jon had come as well at both Joffrey and Tommen’s suggestion and it seemed his friend was struggling to deal with keeping up the act of being Joffrey’s man, not that Tommen could blame him, his brother was an oaf.  The hunt was going quite well, they had traced a deer, to deep within the godswood and were following its trail. His father seemed happier than Tommen had seen him in some time, laughing and japing with Lord Eddard as well as Theo Wull known as the Mountain of the North. The direwolves and Durran were prowling through looking for the deer, and as such Tommen was having fun.

He watched as his father moved forward and the hunt continued through the Wolfswood as they looked and searched for the deer. His father had been speaking to Joffrey but it seemed their conversation had run dry. And now his father was calling for him to come and join him and so Tommen nodded to Robb and Jon and rode up to where his father was. “Tell me lad, do you enjoy hunting?” his father asked in that blustered way of his.

“Aye, I do father. There is something about riding a horse and looking for prey that just cannot be beaten by anything else.” Tommen responds.

“Oh aye most definitely. Hunting is the gods’ way of telling us to make food and to prove our strength. If only your idiot brother was as into it as you are, he would make for better conversation. But as it was this was your mother’s suggestion that I bring Joffrey with us, usually the boy is more like to spend time in the Red Keep.” His father says dismissively.

“Why does Joffrey not partake in the hunt? I would have thought this was something he would deeply enjoy?” Tommen asks.

His father shrugs and says. “Gods be damned if I know. Sometimes I wonder if the boy even knows what it is to be a man. He cannot fight and he cannot drink, he is nothing but a nuisance. If the gods were kind you would have been born first.”

Tommen blushes slightly at that and though he is silent for a moment he feels something akin to pride bloom in his chest. Still he says. “Surely Joffrey cannot be all that bad father? He must have some redeeming qualities?”

His father looks at him briefly and then turns back to follow where the horse is taking him. His response though is dismissive. “Your brother would rather play dangerous games with his squires than actually do the activities that make a true man. I blame your mother truth be told, she has protected him and shielded him his whole life. When I am gone he will not know one end of a sword from another as you showed during your fight.”

Tommen considers this a moment as they continue riding through the Wolfswood looking for the damned deer. “Surely Joffrey has something that makes him a good heir to you father? He has grown up at court, I have grown up here. He can be charming when he wishes, surely that must count for something no?”

His father snorts. “Charm? If you think your brother is charming you are more naïve than half the girls in King’s Landing. There is something inside of him that makes him dangerous, what it is I do not know, but there is certainly something wrong with the boy. Something that makes him do stupid things. Things no sane man would do. I blame your mother, but even then she is cannot take all the blame, perhaps some of it must rest with me.”

Tommen says nothing for a moment and then asks his father. “So what made you betroth Myrcella to Robb father? I thought you only wanted the one marriage?”

His father chuckles then and says. “Aye, I had come here with the intention of only getting your brother a Stark bride, but then I saw the way Myrcella was with the Stark boy and I thought why not give her some happiness. She is my only daughter, and she deserves the world. If she thinks the Stark boy is that then so be it.”

Tommen looks at his father and marvels at just how insightful his father truly can be. He asks. “And do you have any plans for me? Any thoughts on what you wish for me to do?”

His father looks at him briefly and then says. “You are my favourite son Tommen, you are everything a man could want in an heir. That you were born second is a shame, but it is nothing that I can change. Your grandfather has been writing to me to ask if I wished to name you heir to Casterly Rock, as the old lion wishes to prevent his son from inheriting. And then there is the fact that Renly has no heir yet. You can achieve whatever you want lad.”

Tommen is surprised by the news his father has just shared with him. “Grandfather wants me to be his heir? But he already has an heir in uncle Tyrion, surely he must realise that?”

His father roars with laughter at that. “Lord Tywin would rather a sheep inherited the Rock than Tyrion. It is a shame for Tyrion is a good man, but he wishes for you to be his heir. And truth be told it could be an interesting thing to pursue, of course for that you would have to come south. And unless you are willing to come south I will not force you, and so I must ask, are you willing to come south Tommen, or do you wish to say here?”

Tommen considers this for a moment, if he agrees, he could go south and be with Sansa and also go to the Rock and explore the home of his mother. But if he remains in the north he can remain with Robb and ensure that Myrcella will settle in well with them all when she does finally come here. He looks at Durran who is by his side now and then looks at his father, who is looking at him expectantly he swallows then and says. “I will stay here father. I feel at home here with the Starks, I do not wish to go south, not just yet.”

His father smiles then. “Good, I had hoped you would say that. It is good that you get on with the Starks lad, they are good people and they care about you deeply. I certainly know that Ned and Cat see you as a son. And seeing you with the stark boy reminds me of myself and Ned back in the Vale. I am happy you feel at home here.”

Tommen nods. “The Starks are good people father, they are true and loyal and they will always be so. So long as we are kind to them.”

They find the deer then and Tommen and his father charge of to get it, they come within striking distance, but in the end it is Durran who pounces and snaps the life out of the deer. His father roars with laughter at that and says. “Your lion certainly knows what it’s doing.” There is a hearty chorus of laughter at that and Tommen smiles slightly. Once the deer has been fixed to be carried, they are turning round and riding back toward Winterfell

They ride in a companiable silence for the most part, and Tommen is happy to have this time with his father, when his father seems happy and positive, and not drunk or negative as he can so often be as of late.  They continue riding in silence until they reach the end of the Wolfswood and the entrance to Winterfell, there is father tells him he may go back to his friends and so he does so, and just as he and Robb and Jon ride through the clearing they hear the sound of wolves howling and Tommen knows something is wrong, something is terribly wrong. It is only when they dismount and Tommen asks Jory Cassel who is nearby that they learn the cause of distress. “Brandon has fallen.” Is what Jory says. And Tommen feels as if his world is about to shatter.


	21. Lady D'Arbanville

**6 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lady Sansa Stark**

For a whole month the royal party had been here in Winterfell. A whole month! It had been exciting, it had been nerve wracking and it had been full of surprises. Her father had been named hand of the king, she had been betrothed to Prince Joffrey and then at the feast a week ago, the king had announced that Robb was to be betrothed to Princess Myrcella. Sansa was happy about that she liked Myrcella, the princess was kind and charming and had gone out of her way to tell Sansa about King’s Landing and the sorts of people that would be there. Out of all the royal children, Sansa most definitely thought Myrcella was the most sincere in what she said. Joffrey, Joffrey was charming but there was something to him, something bad and wrong when he did not get his way, something that turned him into a monster, something she had only seen after his duel with Tom, and that frightened her. She had tried to speak to father about it, but he had merely said that Joffrey had some hurt pride and not to make anything of it, and her mother had been wrapped up in her grief about Bran’s fall. Bran, it hurt to think of her brother, lying there so lifeless and broken in his bed, his fall from the broken tower had been something else. He was not dead Maester Luwin had said, but it seemed like it, so unmoving was he. Mother was beside herself with grief, she and father had argued, and now were not speaking, Joffrey had not been to see Bran, Tommen had, but Joffrey her golden prince had not and she found that more than odd, almost rude.

Tommen, Tommen, her prince, he had always been her prince and now she was leaving him. She had thought he would come to King’s Landing with them, but he had decided to remain in Winterfell to help Robb, and she found she admired him for that. She had been angry at him for the things he had said before the nameday feast, for what she had thought lies that had been thrown at her by him, the lies that Joffrey said were lies, and she thought him worse than his father. She had been hurt, she had heard about him sleeping with the whores in Wintertown and she had wondered why he would do that, did he not love her? She had been heart broken by that and then he had beaten his brother so badly during their duel and she had been even more shocked and angry about that, why would someone do that to their brother. They had argued and harsh words had been said, and then Sansa had gone to see Joffrey to give her golden prince some comfort and reassurance, and he had been so horrible to her, snarling and snapping and grabbing her and holding her so uncomfortably tight. She had been scared and then she had seen Tommen and….and well she could keep the memory of what had happened between them then a secret, her little secret, even thinking about it made her blush. Needless to say after that moment, she and Tommen had slowly begun to improve their relationship and now she was leaving.

It was this that plagued her thoughts as she walked with Tommen through the godswood, Ser Arys their silent white shadow behind them. “You could still come with us you know Tom. You do not have to stay here with Robb and Jon. Surely you want to see your home?”

Her prince chuckles slightly. “Still trying to get me to come with you are you San? Well I must say I applaud your efforts, but no I must stay here. Your brothers will need me. Lady Catelyn is still grieving for Bran, and though I know he will not die, that he cannot die, your mother still needs time to deal with his fall. My presence here can help with that.”

“How though, you do not know how rule completely. And besides I thought you did not like doing such things anyway?” Sansa asks. Her arm looped through her prince’s, Lady and Durran walking in front of them.

“Oh I would not be doing the ruling San. That would not be right. No Robb is the Stark in Winterfell with your father now in the south, and besides, he knows what he is doing. No I need to remain here to remind him that he is only a lad as well, not a man grown.” Tommen responds.

“He will be soon though and then what will you do? You won’t be able to completely boss him around anymore.” Sansa teases.

“All the more reason for me to do it now, in the moon I have left before he turns into a man. Being a prince means I can do that. And besides, there is also the fact of Jon remaining here. Your brother is still in two minds about whether to go to the watch or not. I need to remind him of what he will be missing at the wall.” Her prince replies.

“I thought Jon was coming south with us. Your brother kept mentioning how Jon was going to come south and become one of his squires.” She says, she pauses then and then says. “I am glad that he did not decide to come south. There is something wrong with your brother Tommen.”

“Other than the fact that he is the less good looking brother and is a complete idiot? What else could be wrong with him?” her prince asks.

Sansa hits him on the arm and says. “I am being serious Tommen, there is something wrong with your brother. There is something in his eyes now, some sort of hunger and lust. I do not know what it is. But it frightens me.”

Her prince stops walking then and turns to look at her. “You are certain you saw something like that? And that it was not just your imagination?”

Sansa nods. “I am certain his eyes are always darker than they were before Tom. It scares me.”

Her prince looks at her for a long time before he replies. “I am sure it is nothing Sansa. Joffrey has been agitated of late, because I have shown him time and time again that he is not as good as he thought he was. That would hurt anyone’s ego.”

Sansa is still not convinced but she nods anyway and then asks. “Was it you, who made it so that Jon does not go south Tom? I know that for a while you and Jon were not friendly to one another, but you seem to be friends now.”

Her prince sighs then and says. “Aye, I am partly the reason. But Jon is also not as much as an idiot as he was before. He knows where his family is and where his loyalties lie. He had forgotten that, and now he will not go south, not with Joffrey. Perhaps not ever.”

She sighs. “I am glad to know you and Jon are back as friends Tommen, but I also know Arya will be disappointed that Jon is not coming south. I think that was the only thing that made her consider that Joffrey might be more than an idiot as she calls him.”

Her prince roars with laughter then and says. “And what about you San? What do you think of Joffrey?”

Her prince is looking at her intently, and Sansa can feel her skin begin to heat. She is silent a moment and then responds. “I think that Prince Joffrey is a charming young man, but there is a darkness in him. And that frightens me, I will have to deal with that darkness now for the rest of my life.”

Tommen has taken one of her hands then and tangles their fingers together. “You do not have to if you do not want to San. Just tell me what you want and I can speak to my father and Lord Eddard and we can get this betrothal annulled. It does not have to happen if you do not want it do.”

Sansa looks at her prince then and she feels her heart hammering away in her chest, she so desperately wants to say yes but then she remembers what her mother had said and she begins to falter and then eventually she replies. “I….as much as I would like to Tom, I cannot do that. Not to my family, this is a great honour that your father has given my family and to break the betrothal over some sort of fear, is not rational. I am not my aunt!”

Her prince looks sad then and her heart aches for him, but his voice is calm when he says. “I understand San, just know that if you ever change your mind you need only speak up and it will be done. With your father as hand and mine as king, no one would dare say any different.”

“Your mother would Tom. I do not think she likes me, she did at first but then something changed and now she only glares at me as if I have done something wrong. I do not know why.” Sansa replies hating how her voice shakes somewhat.

Her prince looks at her a long moment and then he pulls her into his chest and he whispers into her hair. “My mother is many things San. She has many good qualities, but when it comes Joffrey she is blind to his many faults. And when it comes to him and this betrothal, why I think she is quite angry with father for it. Be careful around her San.”

She pulls back slightly then and looks up at him and asks softly. “Would you come with me? To King’s Landing if I asked?”

Her prince looks torn then, he leans forward and whispers. “Are you asking me to come south with you San?”

She considers this a moment and then she says. “I want to know what you are doing and why you are doing it my prince.”

He laughs then and says. “I am staying here, because I do not want to see my grandfather and listen to him drone on about the Lannisters. I want to stay here because Robb and Jon are here and they need me now. And I am staying here because going to King’s Landing and seeing you with Joffrey would hurt too much for me to bear.”

“We could run away together Tom.” She says. She knows she does not mean it but she is merely saying it now to prolong their time together. “You and I we could run away be like my aunt and Prince Rhaegar. We could make it work if we wanted to.”

Her prince laughs then and cups her face. His eyes look so loving Sansa feels as if she could drown in them. “I would love to do that Sansa, but we both know we cannot do that. Neither of us are that foolish. It would hurt our families too much.”

“So we must suffer then? Suffer through the roles life has given us.” Sansa asks.

Her heart breaks when she sees just how torn her prince looks. “Yes, for now we must.”

With that they stop talking and then turn around and walk back toward the courtyard where the royal party and her father and sister are waiting for them. no one says anything as Tommen leads her to her horse, but she stops before she mounts the horse and takes out a scarf which she had made. “I meant to give this to you, for your nameday Tom. I hope you like it.” He takes it from her and looks at it lovingly.

“It is perfect Sansa.” He replies.

She smiles then and says. “Something to remember me by when I am in the south.”

He smiles as well and then leans down and kisses her, there and then in front of everyone and she blushes but her heart is singing. When he pulls away he whispers in her ear. “I love you my lady.”


	22. Lost Knight

****

**7 th Month of 298 A.C. Shy Maid**

**Dayne**

In his dreams he still sees the prince shining brightly in his black as night armour, he can hear the prince reassuring him that he will return. Dayne should have known better, Robert Baratheon was a monster on the battlefield they had all heard tales, and the prince had fought in no battles until the Trident, but they had all trusted that the silver prince could come out on top against the stag. How wrong they had been, just as they had been wrong about so much else. Rhaegar’s sanity for one, it had begun to deteriorate after Harrenhal when that damned comet had come into being. He had begun craving the Stark girl and like a fool Dayne had gone a long with him, and their whole lives had gone to shit after that. The rebellion had happened, Rhaegar had lost his life on the Trident, and Elia had lost hers in King’s Landing along with little Rhaenys. And as for him, well he had come back with Rhaegar after Gerold had found them and he had remained despite his protests to protect Aegon and when the plan had come forward he had gone with the little prince and Ashara to Dragonstone and from there to Pentos on a ship the spider had paid for.

Rhaegar’s son had none of his father’s obsessions apart from when it came to fighting and learning. He wanted to be the best swordsman he could be, the finest warrior he could be and Dayne appreciated that, it was a good quality to have. The prince was interested in history as well, the history of the kingdom he would one day rule, and Dayne could understand that as well. But he was not so obsessed with these things that it would turn his moods upside down as it could with his father. The boy looked like Rhaegar, but was sweeter than Rhaegar had ever been, at least he had been before fighting in the Disputed Lands with the silver swords. That had been the making of the boy as far as Dayne was concerned. As for their company, well there was Griff who Dayne had known since his time in King’s Landing, Griff was bitter but devoted to the boy, yet could not and would not see any way but his own when it came to getting the boy on the throne. Lemore, Lemore named after her septa as a child, his sister was good with the boy as well as with her own daughter, they were good friends and close, but there was nothing more to it thank the gods. The others were a motley crew, and Duck the boy’s trainer sometimes, body guard more often than not was a little bit mad but so were they all.

The boy was currently sparring with Duck, leaving Dayne to speak with his sister as they kept an eye on the two of them as well as his sister’s daughter. His sister seemed more at peace now than she had done when they had first begun this mission, and he wondered if that was because there was a certain safety that came with having there be two other Targaryens out on the loose. Dayne felt bad for Rhaegar’s brother and sister but it had to be done, so long as the usurper did not keep his eye toward them they would be fine. His sister said as much. “I know it feels wrong, but truly I cannot feel bad for not having Viserys and Daenerys here. They would be far too much trouble for us. Especially Viserys, he was already beginning to show signs that he was like his father when we were all still in King’s Landing.”

Dayne grunts. “I would not know, I spent more time at Dragonstone with Rhaegar. As did you, so how would you know the truth behind that statement sister?”

“Lucerys Velaryon talked when he was in his cups brother.” His sister replies. “He liked to speak of all the wrong that had befallen his family under Aerys and his father and grandfather. And as such took every opportunity he could when drunk or in bed to criticise the king he sucked up to in court.”

“I still do not know why you slept with him sister. There were other ways we could have gathered information on Aerys. But no you just had to do that.” Dayne replies.

His sister says nothing for a moment and then replies. “Velaryon had his reputation and I had mine. It made more sense to use the reputations we had then what I was actually like to gather the information. The man talked willingly enough once I had removed one piece of clothing. Getting him to tell all only took a few cups of wine and it was worth it in the end.”

Dayne grimaces slightly and then says. “If it were not for that purpose I would have killed Velaryon there and then for the things he said and did to you.”

“And ruin Dawn with his blood? Please brother there were better uses for that sword of yours than killing a bastard like Velaryon.” His sister replies.

“Killing Brandon Stark for one. I wish I had been there to see him. I would have challenged him there and then.” Dayne replies.

 His sister laughs slightly. “But you were not, and besides it is not as if I was unwilling. I was willing to sleep with him, that he could not provide more, well that was more down to Aerys than him.”

He sighs then. “Aerys, the man was mad. So very mad, perhaps we should have acted sooner. Perhaps then what happened with the Stark girl would never have happened? Perhaps then we could still be in King’s Landing and none of this hiding and sneaking around would have happened.”

“Perhaps, but it does us no good to live in the realm of maybes brother. We both know that. Rhaegar was too blind to his father’s madness before Harrenhal to see. It took the death of his half-brother for him to truly see that there was something wrong with the man. By then the eunuch was firmly whispering in Aerys ear. There was nothing we could do before Harrenhal.” His sister says sagely.

Dayne snorts. “When did you become so wise sister?”

“The day I put on these septa’s robes brother. It does something to you, you know, wearing white and being all chaste and pure. But then again I suppose you would know.” His sister replies.

He sighs then. “I know it only too well. But there are struggles that come with it, that you do not seem to have experienced. Why is that?”

“Because I do not need it anymore brother. Serra is the only person I need to look after now. Her and Aegon, and you of course. You three are the people that keep me happy. I do not need the pleasures of the flesh, not anymore. Besides, where would I meet such a person? We do not have the luxury of meeting new people too often.” His sister replies

“There is always Griff you know? I am sure he would not mind a bit of company.” Dayne suggests.

His sister looks at him for a long moment and then she bursts out laughing. “What?” he asks somewhat confused.

“Oh brother, sweet, sweet brother. Griff is not likely to want to be with me, no more than he would want to be with any old whore from Lys. No he would probably prefer to be with you.” His sister replies.

“Me?” Dayne asks confused. “Why would he want to be with me?”

His sister looks at him then as if he has grown a second head. “You remember how he used to follow Rhaegar around as if Rhaegar hung the moon?” Dayne nods. “And you remember how you used to do the same to that girl from Ghost Hill.” Dayne blushes. “Well…. What did you feel for her?”

“I…..I loved her.” He replies.

“And Griff loved Rhaegar. He would not want a woman.” His sister says simply.

He processes this for a moment but before he can respond, the boy and Duck have walked back in both sweating from head to foot from their morning practice. “How did you do today?” Dayne asks the boy.

“Well, I beat Duck about four or five times during our little matches.” The boy replied smiling confidently.

“And how many matches did you have?” Dayne asks.

“Six I think.” The boy replies.

“Aye it was six. He is getting much better though he does sometimes lose his concentration at inopportune moments.” Duck responds.

“Well make sure to keep your eye on the prize.” Dayne says. “In the heat of battle you will never be able to afford to lose concentration otherwise it will cost you your life. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ser.” The boy replies. “It will not happen again.”

Dayne smiles. “Good now, I do believe you have lessons to attend to do you not?”

The prince nods. “Aye I do Ser. With Haldon I think. Talking about Dorne.”

“Well of you go then.” Dayne says, and he watches as his sister stands and guides the prince and his niece to where the maester is sat on their boat. He sits in silence for a moment and then looks at Duck and asks. “Do you know when Griff was supposed to return?”

“Soon I think Ser. He should not be too long.” Duck responds.

Dayne nods and once Duck has gone he sits in silence once more. He only looks up when he hears the sound of a horse approaching, when the horse stops and a man dismounts, he stands up and brings Dawn with him. He walks outside and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Griff walking towards him, he calls out. “How did it go?”

The man says nothing, but gestures for them to talk in the boat. Once they have both walked back inside Griff says. “The magister reports that things are going well. Better than hoped, it seems Jon Arryn is dead.”

Dayne considers this a moment and then asks. “How certain is the magister about this?”

“Very sure, word has come from Varys himself. Jon Arryn is dead, and it seems that the man’s wife has put the blame on the Lannisters.” Griff responds.

“Has she done this directly?” Dayne asks.

“No, but she has sent a letter to her sister. Varys had word from one of his spies in the Eyrie. It seems that the Starks are now beginning to stir from their apathy. And the last time that happened, there was war.” Griff responds.

“Do you think it will come to war again then? Is that what took you so long?” Dayne asks.

“The Starks have a way of attracting chaos and bloodshed to themselves whenever they come south. It is not beyond the realms of possibility that such a thing might occur again. Especially if Stark believes that the Lannisters did indeed kill his foster father.” Griff responds.

“I take it Baratheon went north to name Stark his hand then?” Dayne asks.

Griff nods. “Aye, and it seems Stark has accepted if what the eunuch has said is true. Things should begin to get very interesting in King’s Landing.”

Dayne wracks his brain thinking about what he knows about this Stark. He knew a lot about the man’s father and brother through Rhaegar, but on this one there is only one thing he can conclude. “He is an honourable man, and if he thinks that there was something amiss with Jon Arryn’s death he will be bound to bring it up to the usurper.”

Griff smiles one of those rare smiles of his and says. “Precisely, which will mean either the usurper will do nothing or Stark will blunder his way through trying to arrest the Lannisters. Or the usurper will do something, and the Lannisters will rise up in protest.”

Dayne nods and replies. “Either way there will be war.”

 


	23. Lost Lady

**7 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lady Sansa Stark**

_The trees stood tall and imposing as she ran through the forest, searching and hunting for prey. The little sister ran by her side, and together they tracked down a doe, a doe that had foolishly decided to drink by the stream. Oh this would be good, she could taste the fear on the doe from where she hid, waiting behind a tree. She looked at her little sister and saw the same look of anticipation and glee on her face, that was no doubt on hers as well. They moved forward silently, padding forth without making a sound. The doe continued to drink without a sense of the danger that was coming toward it. Its head was dipped down in an arc drinking, and then as they got closer the little sister snarled and dived for the doe. The doe just evaded the little sister at the last moment, and began jumping away but she managed to stop it, jumping to catch the rear end of the doe. Tearing down on the doe’s hind legs and feasting. Blood filled her mouth, warm and hot and it was nice, so very nice. The little sister joined her in her feasting and together they celebrated another triumph._

_It would be a while before another such meal came around. This forest was not as plentiful as the one at home had been, there was a scarcity of food because of the two legged creatures. They hunted but did not appreciate the gift of the hunt, there were other wolves here, smaller than she and the little sister, and they followed them around, but never came to close. No, no one dared come to close to them, and yet still they could get no food. It was saddening when she had images of home in her mind, and of the girl, the girl who had loved her and whom she had loved. She whined softly, and the little sister nudged her with her blood covered snout. It would not do to miss the girl, the girl was gone now, sent her away for some reason or another. A bad plan, for the boy, the lion child was wrong, and evil. She needed to get back to the girl but how she did not know. There was movement in the trees and she turned to see a two legged being standing there staring at them. She growled and turned to the two legged being._

Sansa awoke in her room in Maegor’s Holdfast, sweating and with the taste of blood in her mouth. The dream had been so very vivid she could have sworn it was actually happening. But that could not be, she was not a wolf, and she did not like killing. It was merely a dream that was all it was, and yet she could not truly shake the feeling that the dream had some sort of meaning. As always, her heart panged for Lady, Lady who was gone somewhere hidden in the riverlands, as father had told her when he had returned. A groan at the other end of the room turned Sansa’s attention to her little sister, but Arya slept on, still growling and snarling. Sansa shook her head somewhat amused, and got out of bed, wiping the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes. Her thoughts were still on Lady as she got dressed, her direwolf, she had sent her direwolf away after the incident with the butcher’s boy in the Riverlands. Prince Joffrey had been livid after the boy had beaten him, or had it been Arya who had beaten him she did not remember now. Still the memory was twinged with sadness, for she had had to send her direwolf away to escape the queen’s wrath. And the prince had not spoken to her during the rest of the journey.

Not that she truly minded, Prince Joffrey had been quite horrible to her on the journey south. Making all kinds of lurid comments about her and Tommen, things that had made her blush more from anger than embarrassment. And yet there were times when the prince could be quite charming and she truly did not know what to think when that happened. It seemed as though there were two people inside Prince Joffrey, there was the boy who was mean and said harsh things to her about the north and about her sister, and then there was the prince who was charming and complimented her on her beauty and her sewing. She did not know what to think of him and that scared her.

The queen was simpler for Sansa to understand, she was kind. Queen Cersei did genuinely wish to get to know her more, and tried to understand her and how she had been raised. The queen had complimented her on her knowledge of the south and of the Red Keep itself, whilst also complimenting her on being able to keep Arya under some control during their journey south. The queen, the queen was quite a nice lady, which made her wonder if it was from the king that Prince Joffrey got his strange personality from. And yet that could not make sense for the king whilst being a fat drunk, was a jovial man who laughed and japed with her father, and sometimes even spoke to her kindly.

All of this made her miss Tommen all the more. Her prince, her charming prince, he was in Winterfell helping Robb and sparring with Jon and no doubt keeping Rickon occupied. Her prince who was kind and sweet, whilst also being as handsome if not more so than Prince Joffrey. She truly did miss him, and more often than not she found herself thinking of their shared kiss before she had left for the south. She blushed thinking about it, but she truly did care for Tommen, and wished he had come south with them, perhaps King’s Landing would not be as lonely.

Not that she was completely lonely, she had Jeyne Poole with her, and she knew her friend would be getting ready as well, once Sansa was finished bathing and putting on her dress for the day, she looked once more at Arya who was still asleep sighed slightly and then walked out of their room. She met Princess Myrcella and her sworn sword Ser Harrold Gaunt in the hallway, she smiled at the Princess and said. “You look very pretty today princess. You must tell me how you got your hair into that style.”

The princess smiles at this and responds. “Why thank you Lady Sansa. You look very beautiful as well I must say. As for my hair, well it was nothing really just some simple fiddling around with loose ends. But come, we have a breakfast waiting for us in the great hall.”

Sansa links arms with the princess and walks inside once they are seated at the High Table she notes that the hall is quite deserted. “I hope I did not wake you too early princess.”

The princess notes the nearly empty hall and says. “It is no bother, I usually wake up this early. I have never truly been able to sleep for long periods of time.”

Sansa nods at this and then says. “So as I was about to ask before we were interrupted, who do you think will come to attend the tourney?”

The princess’ eyes glitter with happiness when she responds. “Oh I think nearly everyone will come Sansa. After all it is a big event this tourney in honour of your father. Everyone who can joust will be coming to King’s Landing to try and earn either your father’s favour or my father’s favour. It should be quite good fun.”

Sansa smiles and then asks. “Do you think it would be reasonable for Robb and Tommen to come south then?”

The princess blushes slightly at Robb’s name but says. “Oh, if we were to ask I am sure they would come south Sansa. But the question is do we want them to come south. After all there will be so many handsome young men around, do we truly want Robb and Tommen here to distract us from these handsome young men?”

Sansa giggles somewhat at that. “That is true princess. But still it would be nice to see them again.”

The Princess gives her a knowing look. “Surely I am not such bad company that you wish to replace me with my brother and yours already Sansa?”

Sansa giggles again and says. “No of course not. Though you must want to meet Robb again Cella? After all he always goes on about you in his letters.”

It is the princess’ time to blush now and she says. “True, but it is better to leave them wanting more than to give them everything now. After all we are only betrothed.” She laughs then as does Sansa. The princess then turns serious. “How was your walk with my brother yesterday? I hope he was not too harsh to you.”

Sansa’s face falls slightly as she thinks on her walk with her betrothed yesterday. Her voice is steady as she speaks. “It was interesting Cella. Truly it was, Prince Joffrey does seem to have a kind heart, and he wanted to reassure me that the ugliness that happened in the riverlands would not occur here. He also showed me round the tombs of the Red Keep, where the Targaryens were buried.”

She hear the Princess sigh then. “He is always showing people those tombs. It’s almost as if he wants to prove something to everyone. Did he tell you the story about the tombs?”

Sansa is not sure what the princess means, and then after a moment she remembers the story her betrothed told her. “The one about King Maegor?” Myrcella nods and Sansa goes on. “Yes he did. I do not understand why he was telling me that story, it seemed as if he himself did not know, but he carried on telling the story regardless. It was quite frightening.”

Sansa sees Myrcella nod her head in understanding. “He does that a lot Sansa. He likes telling that story about King Maegor, to see whether or not the person he is telling it to will be frightened into doing whatever task he wants them to do.”

Sansa looks at Myrcella somewhat confused and asks. “What do you mean by that Cella? What task does Prince Joffrey usually have people do?”

The look that the princess gives her then sends chills down her spine. Her voice is soft when she responds. “My brother has a habit of asking those he takes down to the tombs, to go down to the deepest levels of the tombs, where the oldest Targaryen kings remains are. And he asks them to remove a bone at a time from the tomb and moving onward.”

Sansa looks at the princess in horror then. “Truly? Your brother truly asks his guests to do something as horrid as that?”

The princess nods. “He asked the last person he took on a tour of the tombs to do just that. And something happened in the tomb that left that person very, very changed from how they were before they went in.”

Sansa feels something akin to dread fill her then. “Changed how?”

The princess looks at her a moment and then replies. “Before, this person was loud and cheerful, always talking and asking questions. Afterward they became silent and scared, always looking as if they feared being caught for some wrongdoing or the other.”

“Joffrey did not ask me to do anything like he asked this person to do. Are you sure that this person did not merely do something wrong themselves and later tried to blame it on Joffrey?” she asks.

The princess shakes her head and says. “I do not know why Joffrey did not ask you to go down deeper into to the tombs Sansa, be grateful that he did not. But I know that he has done it before, because he asked my cousin Tywin to do it, and Tywin has never been the same since.”


	24. UNder Grey Skies

**7 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Ser Gerion Lannister**

Since the royal party had left Winterfell, things had been relatively quiet, Lady Catelyn had remained beside little Brandon’s bedside not moving, barely eating and barely talking, and it had fallen to young Robb to do the ruling in his mother’s place. The lad had done reasonably well, passing judgement and facing some stern tests from his father’s lords. Gerion had kept quiet during the meetings the boy had held with some of the smallfolk and minor lords, only speaking when his opinion was asked, and he was proud of how the boy had handled himself. He would make a very good lord when his time came, a very good one. Tommen seemed to have matured quite a lot as well since his family had left Winterfell, he no longer frequented brothels as much as he had done, and there was some drive that had been added to his already fervent desire to become as good and skilled a warrior as he could be. and then there was Jon, the bastard of Winterfell was sullen as was his wont but he was a good swordsman and was still trying to make it up to Tommen for what had happened with Joffrey, and so did almost all that was asked of him, including sending ravens to the little shit informing him of false information. Then there was his nephews Tyrek and Tywin who seemed to have bonded over their shared quietness and love of history. Tywin had been somewhat reluctant to stay behind but had done so more out of a chance to get away from Joffrey, and when Gerion had learnt what the prince had done to his nephew he had been grateful his nephew had seen sense. Joy herself, seemed to be settling in quite well as well which was something that furthered his happiness, and though she played the role of elder sister and mother to little Rickon she seemed to enjoy it.

He sighed Lady Catelyn had been by little Brandon’s bedside since the boy had fallen and not once had she stirred from her vigil. She would become angry whenever someone would try to talk to her and even suggesting that she move from her son’s bedside would draw angry snarls from her and from the boy’s wolf. Whilst he could understand her need to be by her son’s side, it was growing tiring constantly having to see her there, dishevelled and broken. And then the attack on the boy had happened and the boy’s wolf and Tommen’s lion had torn the attacker in two. That had shaken Lady Catelyn from her stupor and not a moment too soon. He suspected that was why she had called a meeting here in the godswood of Winterfell, where it was unlikely that they would be overheard. Gerion, his nephews Tommen, Tyrek and Tywin were all present, as well as Robb, Theon Greyjoy, Jon Snow and Ser Rodrik Cassel and Maester Luwin. Lady Catelyn looked far more stable and presentable now than she had done for some time. Her voice was clear when she spoke. “I know you all must be wondering why I have called you here.” She paused allowing them to all murmur something or the other. “Well wonder no more. This dagger that I hold in my hands was the dagger that the assassin attempted to use on Bran. Had it not been for his direwolf and for your lion Prince Tommen, my son and I would both be dead. And though I was not sure whom would do such a thing, I now believe that someone in the royal party had something to do with this attempt on Bran’s life.”

There is a moment’s silence and then Maester Luwin speaks. “What makes you think that it is the work of someone from the royal party my lady?”

Gerion speaks then. “The make of the blade is too fine for just a common bound beggar as the assassin was. No, he had to have had someone from the nobility give him that dagger and the amount of gold that was found in his lodgings strengthens the case that it was a noble who gave him that dagger.”

Lady Catelyn voices her agreement. “Gerion is right. No one here in the north would dare do something like this. But there were plenty of people eager to achieve some sort of praise from the royal family that might well consider doing something like this. Or paying someone to do the deed for them.”

Young Robb speaks then. “But why? Why would they do this? Bran never hurt anyone.”

“It is not a case of whether he did something or not that would warrant this Robb.” Gerion responds. “It is a case of it being someone or a group of people wanting to gain favour with the royal party that makes this more likely. After all King Robert himself said to his queen that it would be a kinder fate to just have little Bran killed than suffer through life as a cripple.”

There is a long silence then and Gerion notices that both Ghost and Greywind have their hackles standing whilst Tommen’s Durran is snarling. “Would the king say such a despicable thing though?” Ser Rodrik asks.

“The king says things that he gives no thought to. He would have said it in a well-meaning way, better to have the boy die than suffer through life as a cripple and be a burden to his parents. That would have been Robert’s line of thinking, but the man never thinks that someone else might well have heard his words and tried to act on it. That the queen agreed only makes this more likely.” Gerion says.

“Do you think the King ordered this then?” Lady Catelyn asks fear and anger in her voice.

“My father would never do such a thing my lady.” Tommen protests.

“Robert never would, but what he says can garner attention. And there are always going to be those fools wishing to gain his favour. If they heard him saying as such, then they would act as if doing this thing, would gain them favour.” Gerion responds to his nephew.

There is a long silence after that, and then Maester Luwin speaks. “It is possible, given the amount of monies that was found in the man’s lodgings that there were multiple people involved. Such a heavy quantity could not come from just a single person.”

“But who could contribute such a large amount without raising suspicion?” Lady Catelyn asks.

Gerion considers this for a moment. “There are quite a few lords from the crownlands, who still have doubts cast over their loyalties due to the rebellion. They would have hoped that by contributing to this attempt on Bran’s life the King and the Queen would be grateful enough to remove the stain of suspicion from them. That is of course if it were not someone else entirely.”

“What are you suggesting Ser?” Ser Rodrik asks.

“I am suggesting that perhaps there was someone else, or another group of people involved. It might not have had to be the lords we are speculating about, but others who had more to gain from keeping Bran quiet should he ever wake up.” Gerion responds.

Lady Catelyn latches onto this suggestion. “Yes that does make sense Ser. There were a few people who were missing from the hunt that happened during that day. The Kingslayer for one, and yet he appeared as soon as he heard me crying out for help. I did not think it odd then, but now that I think about it, I confess there is something passing strange about that.”

Gerion nods and is about to speak when Tommen speaks. “What reason could Uncle Jaime have for wanting Bran to die? Bran did nothing to Ser Jaime, and I doubt uncle Jaime even noticed Bran. What could he have to hide?”

Lady Catelyn speaks then. “I believe I might have something that can answer that question. Before the royal party arrived here, there was a raven from my sister, she wrote in it that she believed that the Queen and her father had had a hand in Lord Jon’s death and she warned me to be careful of the queen.”

Gerion looks at Lady Catelyn then and asks. “Do you still have this letter my lady?”

Lady Catelyn shakes her head. “No, I burnt it soon after I had read it. I did not want to leave it lying around in case anyone suspicious read it or found it.”

Gerion nods a smart move that, but one which hinders their plans somewhat. As his nephew points out. “Whilst I do not wish to call into account your sister’s accusations or state of mind when she wrote that letter my lady, how are we to prove that my mother or uncle had anything to do with Bran’s fall or the attempted assassination? We have no evidence, and frankly no reason to suspect they would want to do something like this.”

Gerion speaks then. “Ah but we know that neither of them were around when Bran fell, and yet Ser Jaime appeared surprisingly quickly in response to Catelyn’s cries for help, and the Queen was not far behind him. Where were they then if not somewhere close by? And then there is the small matter of the golden hair that was found in the broken tower where Bran was climbing, how do you explain that my Prince?”

Tommen struggles for an answer before Robb says. “It does not matter who is responsible for this, they have brought harm to my family, and to my people. This cannot go unanswered.”

Theon Greyjoy is quick to speak up in agreement. “If you ride south my sword is yours.”

Jon is next. “Where you ride, I ride.”

Gerion snorts then. “War is it? You wish to ride to war over something that we do not have complete proof over? I thought you knew better, all three of you. Until we have something proper, we must endeavour to find out more.”

“What more is there to find out? How can we find things out? Already we are limited in what we know!” Robb argues.

Gerion sighs then. “I can understand your anger Robb, but there is nothing completely definite that we know yet.” He stops then and pulls out a golden hair from his pocket. “And though this was found in the broken tower some days ago, I am not sure it can lead too much. Considering how many Lannisters there were in Winterfell when the royal party was here, it could belong to anyone.”

Lady Catelyn takes the hair from his hand then and says. “It is enough to warrant a visit to King’s Landing.”

“A visit to King’s Landing? And pray tell me my lady what will you say when asked what it is you are there for?” Gerion asks somewhat bemused.

“I will not go there directly. I will take a ship from White Harbour and land near the port. From there I shall ride to King’s Landing.” Lady Catelyn replies.

“You will be met by someone long before you even get near the gates of the city. The eunuch will know of your approach long before you leave Winterfell. It would be better if someone else went south. Someone who could get into the city without having too many questions asked.” Gerion responds.

Lady Catelyn though stubbornly insists. “I am the wife of the hand of the king, and our son has just been attacked. My husband deserves to know, and even if I do not want to Queen or her brother knowing, there must be ways I can get into the city without them learning of it.”

Gerion sighs then and says. “I have friends within the city that can see that that is done. And yet I still insist that it would be wiser, if I were to go. I could go and tell Lord Eddard about all of this and none would be the wiser.”

Lady Catelyn smiles slightly and says. “I understand Ser, but this is something I must do. Trust me in that I know what needs to be done and what is at risk. I shall leave soon enough.”

 

 


	25. A Troubling Discussion

**8 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

He hated King’s Landing, truly he despised the gods damned capital, it was a viper’s nest, there was not a single honest person here, truly there was not. Everyone had some sort of agenda or goal that they wished to achieve, either to further themselves or their families. And they did so without honour, without dignity, it was sickening to him, and he often found himself wondering why he had agreed to come south at all. Then he would remember Lysa’s letter and the warning she had given and he would stick to that, he needed to protect Robert, he needed to protect his friend from the Lannisters. They had their claws in everything here, from the city watch to the servants, everyone and everything was Lannister and it angered him. Sometimes he wondered how his friend could have become so careless, how Jon Arryn could have allowed such a thing to happen, and then he would see Robert, fat, lazy and complaining about the past, and he would understand, his friend had allowed this to happen because he did not care. And Jon Arryn had struggled through it all and had eventually died.

The journey to King’s Landing had revealed more to him of his friend and the royal family than he actually wanted to know. The queen ruled with an iron fist, determining what happened and when it happened, and Robert, who had never taken orders well, allowed this to happen. It was a wonder the queen had not removed his balls from him and placed them in a vice, so useless had Robert become. There had been flashes of his old friend though, on the way down, they had stopped in Darry because Arya had gone missing and when the Queen had demanded that a direwolf be killed for justice for the crown prince’s own stupidity his friend had spoken then in a harsh tone, stating that the wolf was not at fault and that it was for him to decide what happened. And so reluctantly, Ned had allowed the direwolf to go, he knew his daughter despised him for it, but it was for the best. Arya had not forgiven him for not speaking for her at Darry, and Sansa had not forgiven him for not speaking up for Lady at Darry and so his two girls were for once united in their loathing of him and it hurt. The crown prince had also shown something of a more malevolent side to his person as well. Ned was beginning to wonder if it was even a good idea to come south in the first place.

But then he would think of Lysa’s letter, and the strangeness of Jon Arryn’s death and he knew, he just knew that he had to remain in King’s Landing to see it through. He had to find out why Jon Arryn had died and he had to bring his killer to justice. That investigation was not truly going anywhere though and it was frustrating him, other than meeting two or three of Robert’s bastards’ and seeing that they looked nothing like the royal children, there was nothing else to show for his investigation. Meanwhile, the tourney of the hand had gone off reasonably well despite Ser Hugh of the Vale dying and the Clegane brothers nearly killing one another. And yet his girls did not talk to him, and Robert continued to neglect the realm. It was frustrating.

He supposed that was why he had agreed to come with Petyr Baelish after the council meeting had ended today. He did not trust the man, had no reason to trust the man, but when Baelish had said that he had something interesting to show him he had followed wondering what it could have been. That was how he had found his wife in one of Baelish’s brothels. How Cat come to be here he knew not, only that she and Ser Rodrik had been met by men sent by Baelish and brought to somewhere safe away from the lions. She had brought disturbing news with her as well. Their son had nearly been killed and there was a dagger to prove it. He recognised the dagger somewhat, it was similar to the one Jon had given the crown prince for his nameday, except it was of a finer make. He voiced his thoughts. “And Gerion thought that it might well have been from a collection of lords who tried to gain the royal favour?”

He did not want to think that his friend could have said such a thing but knowing this Robert it was possible. His wife nods. “Yes my love. Gerion seemed convinced that someone could well have overheard the king when he was speaking to the queen. And even if he did not mean it seriously there were enough people there vying for their favour that they might have done it out of desperation.”

“But Robert, Robert is not some sort of sadistic killer. He knew Bran was a child why would he say such a thing?” Ned asks aloud, his thoughts troubled.

“The king often speaks without thinking my lord. Surely you have noticed by now. The tourney, the welcoming feast. All of them are prime examples of where his mouth gets the better of him. Especially when he is drunk, and when is he not drunk.” Baelish says.

Ned considers this a moment and then says. “But this dagger is too fine a quality for anyone of the nobles who came with Robert to be theirs. Such a blade would only be affordable if one was from a wealthy noble family and there are few of those here in the crownlands.”

“Unless they had, like Lady Catelyn suggested allied together to achieve this goal.” Lord Varys replies. “Whilst unlikely considering the fierce rivalry between the houses in the crownlands, it is not beyond the realms of reason. Especially for those houses that wish to emerge from underneath the shadow of the rebellion.”

What the eunuch says makes sense and yet, it does not sit comfortably with Ned. There is something wrong with it all. “There is something not quite right about that assumption though. The lords of the crownlands more than likely are apathetic toward Robert and myself at best. They have no reason to actively do something like this. Unless….”

“Unless what my lord?” Catelyn asks.

“Unless someone paid them to combine together to do the deed. The man who was sent to kill Bran sounded from the south did he not my lady?” he asks his wife.

“Yes he did, very southern, from this area in fact.” Catelyn replies.

“The lords of the crownlands might well have done something at the suggestion from someone with a lot of money. Someone whom they could not afford to say no to.” Ned goes on.

There is a moment’s silence then and then Lord Varys speaks. “If you are suggesting someone from the royal family had something to do with the attempt on your son’s life, my lord that is a very bold claim to make. Is there anything to suggest that this is the case?”

Ned looks at his wife then and she says. “The Kingslayer did not go off hunting with the others, and he and the queen were nowhere to be seen for many hours whilst everyone else was off hunting. And then when my son fell, the Kingslayer was one of the first people there to help. I thought nothing of it then, but now, now I wonder if there was more to it.”

Baelish speaks then. “It is certainly possible that the Lannisters had something to do with this. They have always had something against your family Stark, ever since the rebellion at least. But that does not seem to be the Kingslayer or the Queen’s style. If your boy saw something he was not supposed to see, the Kingslayer, would have just killed him there and then. No, sending a hired knife after someone, seems like something, another Lannister would do.”

 

Ned can feel his patience running thin. “Do not talk in riddles Baelish. Either say what you mean or do not speak at all.”

The master of coin holds up his hands placatingly and says. “Easy Stark. What I am saying is that, there is a third Lannister sibling, one who has neither the skill of his brother nor the openness of his sister. He is cleverer than both and if he thought your boy saw or heard something he should not have heard, then he would be the one to give the incentive for others to get rid of your son. I believe Tyrion Lannister is behind the attack on your son.”

A long silence follows this and then Ned speaks. “The Imp? Why would the imp want my son dead? I do not think he spoke even one word to Bran whilst he was in Winterfell. It makes no sense.”

The master of coin looks at him a sly smile on his face one that leaves Ned feeling chilled. “Things often do not make sense when it comes to family. Tyrion Lannister might well despise his sister, but he loves his brother dearly. And if he were to have caught wind that the boy might have seen something or heard something that he should not have heard, he would most definitely act on it.”

There is something about this that makes Ned feel uneasy, there is something here that is not being said. What it is he does not know, but before he can speak Lord Varys speaks. “Lord Baelish is correct in that should Lord Tyrion feel that his brother is threatened he would do what his brother could not and try and deal with the problem discreetly. And yet I do not think this is Lord Tyrion’s work. It is too clumsy and too ill thought out. No this is someone else’s work.”

“Whose? Who would be so evil as to try to kill a child?” Ned growls his anger getting to him now.

Catelyn takes his hand then and squeezes it. The eunuch speaks. “It is possible that word has gotten out to the Queen about your little investigation into Jon Arryn’s death my lord. There are spies everywhere, and your goodsister was not the most subtle of people when it came to her anger and her worries. If your son, who you, yourself have said is a good climber, then it is possible that he saw something he should not have seen, and the queen in her desperation had someone paid to try and silence him.”

Ned feels something akin to anger and despair fill him. Cat gives a shuddering breath beside him and asks. “Why? Bran is only a little boy. He would not have done anything. Why would she try to kill a little boy?”

“Because she is Tywin Lannister’s daughter my lady, and the Lannisters have already shown that they have no trouble killing small children to protect their own interests. The queen is no different.” The eunuch responds.

Ned feels anger grow inside of him. “Then the king must know of this. If his queen is trying to kill innocent children Robert must be made aware of this.”

“And when you bring your accusation before the king, you can be sure the queen will be there my lord. She will laugh and deny it, and you will be made to look a fool. You have no solid evidence to prove that she did the deed, or even why she needed to do the deed. Your son still sleeps.” Baelish responds.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Ned growls. “I cannot let this go unanswered, I must find out the truth.”

Baelish smiles again, a smile that does not reach his eyes. “Be patient and wait. The queen will grow nervous if she was the one who ordered your son’s death. Eventually she will let something slip, and that is when you act. Not before and not after. Only then.”

“Will she though?” Catelyn asks concerned.

Baelish nods the smile still on his face. “She is a Lannister, of course she will.”

 

 


	26. Red Weasel

**8 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Tywin Frey**

There was one thing about the north that truly stood out when compared to the south and in particular King’s Landing, even in summer it was bloody cold! Tywin knew not how the northmen could walk around without more warm clothes on their bodies, to him it just seemed unimaginable. And the snows, god it had snowed hard once or twice since he had been in Winterfell, the snow was such a strange sight for Tywin, he had heard of the North’s summer snows, but he had never truly believed they existed until he witnessed them first hand. They were truly magnificent, things to be marvelled at, and things that made him glad he had remained in the north instead of going south with Joffrey. The people of the north were much friendlier as well, his last name did not mean much here in the north, and as such there were not as many barbed comments about his great grandfather and the lateness of Freys. The northmen were much more direct than the people in King’s Landing, if they wanted you to know what they thought of you, they just came out and said it. They did not hide behind pretty lies or courtesies, they said what they thought, and they meant what they said. He could appreciate that, and he could somewhat see why his uncle Gerion and cousins, Tommen, Tyrek and Joy were so taken with the place.

It helped he supposed that the people of Winterfell were also nice folk. Everyone was there for a quick word, or a quick joke, something to lighten the moods if things became to bleak or dark, as was wont to become the case during the snows. They were a cheerful people who appreciated the simple things in life, people who did not want for much but took what they wanted when the need arose. He could appreciate that, and he preferred it to the simpering of the south. Especially considering his own family and the disdain with which he held for them. Robb was a good man, coming into his own as a lord and a Stark, he had celebrated his sixteenth nameday some days ago and looked all the more handsome for it. He always looked handsome did Robb, and Tywin did not know why he kept on noticing that. As for his cousin Tommen, well Tommen was just like his father, loud and boisterous and able to hold a room simply by being in it, Tywin was envious of him. And then there was Jon, the bastard of Winterfell, who Tywin felt nothing for. The bastard walked over and lorded it over him because he was a Stark bastard nothing more.

The bastard’s attitude toward him reminded him somewhat of Joffrey. The crown prince often walked around as if he owned wherever it was he was. Truth be told he probably did considering who his grandfather was. It was a frustrating thing, knowing just how close the bastard had come to seeing just what Joffrey was, and yet somehow his brother and Prince Tommen seemed to have accepted him back into their little group with nary a comment. He knew just what Prince Joffrey would have done had the bastard gone south. The tombs of the Red Keep still haunted his dreams, he had only been around eight or nine when he had come to King’s Landing to serve as his cousin’s squire. He had been so excited, and then the darkness had come. Eating away at his soul in his desperation to please his cousin and make a name for himself, he had forgotten what he was, who he was. And his cousin had used that against him, and broken him. Tywin did not think he could ever truly recover from that.

It did not help that the bastard constantly reminded him of his service to Joffrey. As indeed he was doing now. They had just finished their lessons and were walking toward the Great Hall, and the bastard was speaking in the harsh manner of his. “So tell me Frey, why did you decide to remain here in Winterfell? Did Prince Joffrey ask his weasel to remain here to spy on us?”

“No. He did not. I wished to remain here, because I like it here Snow.” Tywin replies.

“Well I am not surprised. I think anything would be better than that hovel you call a home in the south Frey.” Snow responds.

Tywin grits his teeth and barks. “The Twins is just as fine a castle as Winterfell, and Casterly Rock even more so.”

The bastard laughs and says. “Truly? The Rock might be, but the twins? The twins is nothing compared to Winterfell. To even think as much is an insult. But then again for the grandson of a second son I suppose you would not know better.”

Tywin grits his teeth but before he can respond, Prince Tommen is there is voice jovial. “Come now Ty, don’t look so harsh. Jon is only jesting aren’t you Jon?”

The bastard nods. “Oh of course. Tywin is a guest here, despite being named for a child killer and being a Frey. I know where my manners are.”

Tommen smiles. “You see, no harm done. Now then let us discuss something more pleasant. That lesson with Luwin was a tad boring was it not? Gods I never thought I would say this, but I would rather have been listening to Septon Chayle going on about the seven than have to listen to such tedious details again.”

The bastard laughs. “True, too true. Though Chayle does have a tendency to go on and on about the seven. Especially when he’s in his cups. He tried to convert me once you know.”

Tywin looks at his cousin and at Robb who are both staring at Jon somewhat surprised. “Truly? You do not jape?” Tommen asks.

“Truly. He was quite drunk at this point though, and said something along the lines of trying to convert all of the heathen north to the seven. It was really quite funny, that and that he thought trying to convert me would work.” The bastard responds laughing.

There is silence a moment as they all digest this and then Tywin, still angry from the bastard’s previous taunts says. “Perhaps things would have been much better for us all had he succeeded Snow. After all, we all know just how without honour bastards are. You, yourself showed that whilst Prince Joffrey was here.”

Theon Greyjoy bursts out laughing at that, and everyone else seems to go quiet before Tommen speaks. “Easy there Ty. We do not want to bring up any old issues that have long since been settled.”

Tywin the anger growing inside of him says. “Why not? The bastard has brought up the issue of my family more times than I can remember. Perhaps it is time he got a little sample of the dish he deals out.”

“Tywin, enough. We do not need more arguments.” Tommen says forcefully.

“Not it is alright Tom, let us hear what Frey has to say.” The bastard says confidently.

Tywin looks at the smug look on the bastard’s face and feels anger rise up inside of him, especially when he remembers the things the bastard had said when speaking to Joffrey. “You claim to be so high and mighty, above me, because I am a Frey. And yet you are a bastard, you do not know who your mother is, perhaps your father is too ashamed to say that she was a whore! We all know bastards have no honour, you act friends with Prince Tommen now, but before, you were all but Joffrey’s dog. You did, and I am sure you still do whatever it is the prince asks of you. You have no honour bastard.”

There is a silence that stretches for a long time as people digest what he has said and then before he can react the bastard has got him by the scruff of the neck and is growling. “I might be a bastard, but at least I know who I am and what my place is. You, and your kin have never known that. You are more of Joffrey’s dog than I ever was. I remembered who I was before it was too late, and you do not. You are nothing more than a stain on the ground. A stain that will be gone before too long.”

Laughing a choked laugh, Tywin manages to ask. “Is that so bastard? Then tell me, what of the plan you came up with, for Joffrey? The plan that nearly put Tommen in a truly bad state? What of that?”

The bastard tightens his hold on him and Tywin can feel his breath becoming more of a labour. “You….you do not have a right to bring that up Frey. You were there, and were complicit in what was being planned. Had you any morals you would have spoken up. But as always with your family, you stayed silent and did what benefitted you the most. You have no sense of right and wrong.”

Tywin can barely breathe so tight is the bastard’s hold on his throat and yet still he manages to choke out. “Says the bastard who continues to undermine me, when I have done nothing to him.”

“Jon….” Tywin hears a voice say, through his blurry vision he can see Robb, sweet Robb standing there. “Jon let go of him.”

After some time, the bastard does let go and Tywin slumps down, and begins trying to get air back in his lungs. The bastard meanwhile seems wroth. His eyes are wide and his wolf is snarling. “You want to know why I treat you the way I do Frey?” a moment’s silence and then. “I will tell you why. You are nothing but a mindless craven, who keeps quiet because to speak up would get you noticed and hurt. You do not want that and so you hide and do as your betters tell you to do. You said nothing when Joffrey was ordering all kinds of harm done to the people here, or to his brother. Nothing. So don’t you dare, tell me anything about honour. I have mine, I do not think you ever had honour.”

The words hit Tywin hard, and they sting. He knows there is a truth to them, but there is something else there, the memories of his time in the tombs of the Red Keep comes back to him then. And before he can stop himself he has risen and is charging towards the bastard. Arms, strong arms hold him back, whose arms he does not know but he knows that he will not be judged, not by the bastard. “I HAVE NO HONOUR? You think I have no honour? I was just a boy! I was just a boy when I came to court, I was to learn honour from Prince Joffrey! He was to teach me what it mean to be a knight. Instead he did things to me that have left me broken for as long as I can remember.”

The bastard snorts. “Lies, what sort of things could make an already spineless person even more spineless?”

Tywin strains against the arms holding him in place and snarls. “Things that would have been done to you as well bastard, had you continued down the path you were going. Joffrey has a habit of taking his squires down to the tombs of the Red Keep, and making them do things, things that no one should do.”

“What sort of things?” the bastard asks sounding intrigued and worried, as he should be.

“Drinking, drinking wine and things that no one should drink. Tests, all kinds of tests, and then… when you think that it is done, when you think that you have done all that could be done….Joffrey….he…..he….pulls down your trousers and pulls down his and he…..he…..fucks you.” Tywin says the image shoving its way to the front of his mind, the horror the feeling all of it envelops him now.

 

 

 

 


	27. Lady Queen

**8 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Cersei Baratheon**

King’s Landing was not Casterly Rock, it lacked the grandeur and sense of luxury that the Rock had but, what it lacked in overwhelming luxury, it more than made up for in its sense of comfort and intrigue. She quite liked King’s Landing, she had seen it as her home ever since her father had brought her to the capital when she was but ten years old. The intrigue and the pageantry were things that had and still caught her eye to this day. The sense of power she got from knowing everyone in the city was looking out for her and trying to please her, was overwhelming. Yes she did most definitely like King’s Landing and the Red Keep, and so had been thoroughly relieved to return home after the disaster that had been the visit to Winterfell. How people could live in such barbaric and sparse conditions she did not know. The northmen were hard and savage people because of the land they lived in, they lacked the sensibilities to do anything but fuck and fight, and as such Cersei did not like or appreciate them. Were they to disappear from the realm she would have no complaints. She was not surprised her husband liked the northmen, he was just as much a savage as they were. No what really hurt her was that Tommen, the sweet little boy whom she remembered had turned into one of them as well. He reminded her far too much of Robert for her to truly like him, she loved him yes, but she did not know him, and that hurt.

The Starks had shown just how savage they truly were with both girls riding on their horses down to the south. Not once did either Stark girl volunteer to sit in the wheelhouse unless their Septa told them to. It was shocking to her, and even more so that their father allowed them to do such things. Far too shocking, the eldest Stark whilst not as wild as her brat of a sister, was still too uncivilised for Cersei’s liking there was not a chance that she could be the girl from the witch’s prophecy not a chance. And yet when the direwolf had attacked her son, Robert had sided with the Starks not his own heir. He had allowed the wolf to live and looked the other way when Stark freed it. That infuriated her, and the fact that the girl had told her despicable lie, that angered her even further. But of course she needed to make sure the girl trusted her, for when her father was gone, and so she hid her anger and fury and made nice with the girl and tried to figure out just who and what she was. So far she had seen that the girl liked songs, and liked history, but also had a sharp mind. Certainly sharper than she first thought. That worried her.  It worried her a lot.  She still remembers the threat her uncle made, her fool of an uncle who was no true lion. How he could know about the witch’s prophecy when no one else did she did not know, but it truly should not have surprised her, the man was good at finding things out. That the Stark girl seemed to be charming her way through court was a worrying thing, she had the nobles eating out of her hand and Cersei could feel the chains circling in on her.

“You worry too much.” She hears her brother whisper into her ear. His arms circling her.

“And you do not worry at all.” She replies, turning to look at him. “One of us needs to worry about these things, otherwise we will all end up dead.”

“What things? The succession is secure, and your husband does not know the difference.” Jaime purrs.

“Robert might not, but Stark is starting to worry me. His actions and searches into Jon Arryn’s death, might well lead him to reach a conclusion that would be bad for all of us.” She says.

“So what if he is looking at a few of Robert’s bastards. That proves nothing. Every Lannister since Lann the Clever has had blonde hair. Our traits are simply stronger than the Baratheon ones. There is nothing to it. No one would believe him anyway.” Jaime reassures her.

Cersei turns around then and looks at her brother. “And what of his enquiries into Jon Arryn’s death? We did not kill the man, but could Stark truly think that we did not? After all, it seems he thinks we did, and if he finds enough evidence to suggest why, then he will not hold back. And Robert is more like to believe him than me.”

“I do not think Stark is smart enough to come to any conclusion whatsoever sweet sister. The man knows how to fight, but he is a Northman, and they have never been good at this game of the south. He will be to slow to realise what is happening, and when he comes close to realising we can simply have him killed.” Jaime says simply.

“And draw even more attention upon us? No. we cannot do that, there must be another way we can throw him off course. A task that would not have been as hard had you not thrown that child from the tower now Stark will not stop looking until he finds out the truth. Or what he believes to be the truth.” Cersei snaps.

“And he is not going to discover anything of note. Yes Robert has a few bastards who look like him. That does not mean anything. Anyone who might be able to tell him anything, I have either killed or is under your pay roll. And Stark is not a man who would resort to bribery to get his information. He is too honourable by half.” Her brother drawls.

She does not like how calm Jaime is with all of this. “Why are you so calm? If Stark finds out about what happened the day his son fell, our heads will be on spikes. And he will think wrongly that we killed Jon Arryn. He must be stopped by some means before he reaches that conclusion.”

Her brother sighs. “I am calm because I know that Stark is too slow to come to any conclusion. Besides he sees Tommen as a son, it was obvious from how he treated the boy in Winterfell. He would not dare come to any such conclusion, not now, and besides the boy acts like Robert, that should be enough to dissuade any such notions. If not I will kill him, and any who might talk.”

She does not like her brother’s attitude but his mention of Tommen brings up another matter. “Joffrey has been receiving letters from the bastard of Winterfell. It seems that Tommen and the Stark boy have been plotting something or the other. The details are not quite clear, but it seems they are working to undermine Joffrey.”

Her brother chuckles. “A Stark trying to undermine Joffrey? I do not think so. They are in Winterfell, away from where all the action is happening. They could not hope to undermine Joffrey, besides I do not think the sons of Eddard Stark know how to do intrigue. This should be fun. What have they been trying to do?”

“As I said the details are not clear, but it seems it involves them taking away some of Joffrey’s squires and inviting them to take part in some tourney or the other when Tommen comes south. It seems my son has decided he wishes to come to Casterly Rock. And considering the attention Joffrey has been showing the Stark girl some might well consider going there.” Cersei bemoans.

Her brother is silent a moment and then says. “I do not think they will go Cersei. They are too attached to Joffrey, to want to leave. There is nothing for them in the Rock under Tommen.”

Cersei nods. “I do have my doubts about the bastard. That he did not come south when invited, it makes me wonder if he still is Joffrey’s. Joffrey insists he is, that the bastard has been writing to him of all the things to speak to the Stark girl about, and about what his brother and Tommen are plotting. But something seems off.”

“What do you mean?” her brother asks.

Cersei sighs and says. “It feels as if there is something off with the bastard. As if something has changed or had changed between the time he became Joffrey’s man and the time it took for us to get back to King’s Landing. It feels to me as if he is holding something back. As if he is not giving us the full picture of events in Winterfell. This smells of Gerion.”

Her brother looks at her quizzically. “What does our uncle have to do with this?”

She groans. “Do you remember that threat he made to me at Winterfell?” her brother nods. “I believe he is doing something in Winterfell with the Starks. He is trying to undermine our position and poison Tommen against us. Tommen should have come south, he should not have remained in the north. He is a Lannister not a savage.”

“And you think Gerion is trying to create some sort of rift between Tommen and the family? Why would he do that? What does he have to gain from doing such a thing?” Jaime asks.

“Gerion does not like father, and he has never liked us Jaime. What he is doing, I think has no true purpose. He is merely doing it because it amuses him. He took Brightroar from right under our father’s nose and gave it to Tommen. He is trying to win Tommen’s loyalty and make him question his loyalty to Joffrey.” Cersei explains.

“To what end though? There is nothing much for Gerion or Tommen to gain by going against Joffrey. Absolutely nothing.” Jaime says.

“There is if Gerion thinks that he would be better suited to having someone more biddable on the throne. Robert is not long for this world, and Joffrey, Joffrey is more of a man than Tommen. He is smarter and quicker than Tommen, and he knows his own mind. From what I saw, Tommen does not have his own mind. He does as he is told, and unless he can fight he does not know what to do. That is someone that Gerion can use, can control.” Cersei says.

“So you think that once Robert is gone, and Joffrey sits the throne, Gerion will create some sort of scenario that will make it likely for Tommen to rebel?” Jaime asks sounding sceptical.

“I do not think he will create a situation where that happens. I believe he will try and make it so that Joffrey creates the situation himself. Joffrey and Tommen do not like one another Jaime, there is something brewing between them at Gerion’s urging that will make war inevitable. I can feel it.” She says.

Her brother pulls her to him then and whispers into his hair. “If that is the case, then I will ride north and kill Gerion myself. I will not allow him to tear our family apart. Not again.”

She looks at him then and says. “I do not think you could do that Jaime. You care too much for the man, for whatever reason and besides, Tyrion is still at the wall. Despite whatever I might make of the imp, you care for him and I would not see you hurt because of what the savages might do to him should anything happen to Gerion.”

“Then what would you have me do Cersei?” her brother asks looking down at her with his enchanting green eyes. “How can I be of service?”

“Be patient brother.” She responds kissing him then. “Be patient, soon we shall act.”

There is a knock at the door and they pull away. Cersei walks toward the door and opens it and sees one of her spies standing there. “What is it?” she asks.

The spy is silent a moment and then says. “Petyr Baelish has something he wishes to speak to you about Your Grace. It is about Eddard Stark.”


	28. Confused Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the lovely Tommginger, Happy birthday, hope you enjoy it. I know it's late, but still.

**9 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lady Sansa Stark**

The dreams were becoming more and more vivid. At first it had been mere images of a hunt, and the killing of prey, but now Sansa could actually taste the kills, and the feeling of blood in her mouth often had her waking up in the middle of the night to go to the basin to wretch. She felt horrible and wondered why the same thing was not happening to Arya. Apart from the odd strange noise made at night, her sister seemed unaffected by the dreams that Sansa knew plagued her as well, it was strange, was there something happening to their wolves? Something that meant they had to keep seeing these things, the vivid images of pain and death, and it was often a stag or a deer that got killed. To Sansa that could only mean one thing and she did not like it. There was a feeling of uneasiness for her about all of this, and it was deeply unsettling, she did not want these dreams, and yet they continued to come, she could not even speak to her father about them for she did not wish to burden him with this knowledge whatever it was.

It was the fact that the dreams often showed two stags fighting that made Sansa think of Tommen and Joffrey. The only two Baratheons she knew who were interested over her. There was quite a pronounced difference between the two of them which was becoming clearer as time went by, how she had not seen it before she did not know. Joffrey was cruel, there was something about his eyes that unnerved, every time she saw him now she was reminded of a lion, a lion that was about to strike and kill its prey. Something she found quite ironic considering Tommen had an actual lion for a pet. Durran, her heart ached whenever she thought of the little lion cub and its master. Tommen was kind and sweet, yes he might have done somethings that she did not truly approve of but he was always good to her, and even when she had been a fool he had still tried to speak with her. The memory of their kiss before she had left for King’s Landing still caused her to blush. She missed him something fierce. Truly she wished for him to come back to King’s Landing but knew deep down that he would not, not whilst Joffrey and she were still betrothed. Joffrey, the crown prince who was more evil than evil could be. There was something wrong about him and yet what it was she did not completely know.

Then there was the Queen, the queen had gone from being quite courteous and kind to Sansa to showing outright hostility to her. Oh she did not make it too obvious in public, but the tone of her voice and the way she acted toward Sansa, suggested something had changed in the queen. Something that was making her act harshly toward Sansa, and suggest that the problems that Sansa was facing with regards to Joffrey were all of her own making and not something that her son had had something to do with. It was frustrating and scary for Sansa, and she truly wished that she had her mother there with her to help her. But mother was in Winterfell, she missed Winterfell truly she did. She wanted to go home, but she did not want to cause her father any more grief, already he seemed to be suffering in King’s Landing, she did not want to add to it. And so she tried to keep Arya under control as well something that did not happen too often considering how frequently she went off for her dancing lessons.

That was why she was so surprised when her father asked her to come to his solar in the tower of the hand after the afternoon meal. Her father rarely wanted to speak to her, and that was something that had made her miss home as well. But here she was, sat in her father’s solar as she waited for her father to finish reading whatever it was he was reading. Eventually he put down the letter and looked at her. His brows were furrowed in concern. “Tell me Sansa, are you enjoying yourself here in King’s Landing?”

The question does somewhat catch her off guard but she answers honestly. “King’s Landing is fun father. There are many different things that can be done here, that cannot be done in Winterfell. And that is to some extent fun, but I miss Winterfell. And yes there are times when I wish to go home.”

Her father’s expression furrows more and she wonders briefly if she has said the wrong thing. Her father’s voice is soft when he says. “Perhaps I made a mistake in bringing you and your sister here. This is no place for two girls. There are too many dangers here. And the boy himself does not seem to be doing much to assuage your concerns.”

Confused Sansa asks. “What do you mean father?”

Her father looks at her then and says. “Since the incident at Darry, I have wondered if I made the right move in seeing you betrothed to Prince Joffrey. The boy has done nothing to make you feel welcome here in King’s Landing that I can see, and if I am right he has done nothing but make you feel unwelcome. It is something I have been meaning to bring up with Robert but have not had the chance to. So tell me true, what do you make of Prince Joffrey?”

Sansa hesitates for a moment, she has so much to say, but she is aware of something Lord Baelish told her, there are ears everywhere. Her voice is soft when she replies. “Prince Joffrey is a person of many faces father. He can be kind but he can also be quite cruel. There are times when I wonder how a person can have so many personalities and still be sane. And then I think of who his mother is and that sometimes provides the answers for me.”

Her father looks at her intently and asks. “Do you want this betrothal to end?”

Another question that Sansa has a dozen answers for, but once again she remembers Lord Baelish’s words of advice and says. “If there was a way for this betrothal to end without it causing troubles for us all, I would take it father. But there is not, and you seem to have enough trouble as it is with the king and the queen.”

Her father looks at her then, his eyes furrowed in question. “Whatever do you mean Sansa?”

“I might be a girl father but that does not mean I cannot tell when you are angry or upset, and when there has been an argument, the servants talk. You have been fighting with the king about something or the other, and of course the Queen has never been someone you truly liked. It is written across you face whenever someone mentions either of them.” Sansa responds.

Her father laughs then. “I suppose I should not be surprised, you were always quite a keen observer of people Sansa. But it does mean that perhaps there are others who know of my dislike for this place, which means we are in even greater danger now than we were before.”

Sansa feels something akin to worry bloom inside her then and she asks. “What do you mean by that father? Why are we in danger?”

Her father looks as if he wishes to change the subject, but then he must change his mind for he says. “We are Starks Sansa, and Starks have never traditionally gotten on well in King’s Landing. Given that there is such a great Lannister presence at court, we must be on guard and we must ensure that we do not give them reason to wish us harm. That is why your sister Arya has her dancing lessons, she is learning to be quick and agile. That is something that will benefit her.”

Not sure how the two are linked Sansa asks. “How does Arya being taught how to dance improve her chances of survival here?”

Again her father looks as if he wishes to change the topic of conversation but once more he speaks what he is thinking. “Arya has always wanted to learn how to fight, I am giving her that chance. She has a good dancing master who knows how to train her in a way that suits her. That is all I mean.”

Sansa is not sure she understands but she knows not to push, instead she asks. “What of me? Do I not need some way to defend myself?”

Her father looks at her a moment and then says. “Do you wish to learn how to fight?”

Sansa looks at him a long moment and then says. “If it means I am safer here then yes, yes I would. But for now I want to know why Arya keeps disappearing.”

Her father sighs. “Because the fewer people who know of it the better. We are in a dangerous place Sansa, and we must keep our secrets close to our chest.”

“I can help father. I know I can. Please tell me what needs to be done and I will do it. Please father I just want to help.” Sansa pleads with her father.

Her father sighs then. “Sansa, you are helping by doing what you are doing. You are my daughter, you do not need to worry about all of this. That is my job, should I need you to look after Arya I will tell you. Until then do not worry, I have it under control.”

Remembering something she overheard Lord Baelish saying she asks her father. “What about the tourney father?”

“What about the tourney Sansa?” her father asks his tone guarded.

“Well, everyone knows how little you want this tourney to happen, and yet it is going on as if there had been no attempt to stop it. Why are you holding the tourney if you do not want it?” she asks curious.

“Because the king wishes for the tourney to be held, and whatever the king wants the king gets. That is the way of things Sansa, as I am sure you know.” Her father responds.

“The king rarely seems to do anything father. He always seems to be drunk or off hunting. And he is never at the meals held in the throne room. Or if he is he is always with some serving girl or the other. Is he truly as good as you thought he was?” Sansa asks curious.

Her father looks somewhat put out by the question but replies honestly nonetheless. “Robert is a man who has always given himself over to his pleasures. But he is a good man, with a kind heart. Do not let how he behaved on the way to King’s Landing influence your opinion of him. Speak with him if you wish, he is a good man deep down I know he is.”

Sansa wonders if her father is trying to convince her or himself and she feels sorry for him. Still she cannot help but say. “He seemed like a craven when we were at Darry. He did not even stand up to his own wife, when he knew, we all knew that Joffrey was lying.”

Her father looks at her then and says. “That is true, and yet you, yourself only said what you said after speaking with me. So I would not be too quick to judge the king on that. But this is not relevant. I will ask you once again, do you wish for your betrothal to Prince Joffrey to stand?”

Sansa looks at her father then and she can see Tommen in her mind’s eye and his smile and she wants that, so desperately wants that. And so she asks. “What will happen if I say no father?”

“Then after the tourney ends you will go back to Winterfell, and never have to set foot in King’s Landing again if you do not want to.” Her father replies.

 


	29. Half Man

**9 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Tyrion Lannister**

The wall had been an adventure, it was a beautiful thing, a behemoth of ice, glistening in the sky, and it was magnificent. The people of the watch were murderers, rapists and thieves, but there were some nice people, people who were in search of a purpose and guidance, and he did hope that they found it. The watch was not what it once it had been it was falling into disrepair it was sad really, an institution that had once been great and was now nothing more than a waste. Much like King Robert, Tyrion thought somewhat amused. There were other problems it seemed, dead things in the water, and a growing presence of wildlings closer to their castles. There were not enough men for them to do as they were supposed to and Tyrion did feel sorry for them and had promised to speak to Robert when he returned to court, if he ever did, he was having far too much fun here in Winterfell.

Winterfell and the Starks who inhabited it were not as dull as he had thought when he came with the royal court. There was some life in time, young Lord Robb and Jon Snow were good companions, who knew jokes and knew when to be serious, something that their father could learn to do, if what Tyrion had seen of the man was any true indication. The Starks and their people were kind hearted and whilst they could be serious and sometimes boring, when they laughed they did it properly, they did with full force. There had been many a morning where Tyrion had woken up with a raging headache only to laugh at the memories of the night before. Yes he quite liked Winterfell and was not sure if he truly wished to leave. There was something about the Starks that appealed to him, a sense of family as it were, something he had never truly had when he had been a lad. He envied them it, and hoped they learned to cherish it.

As for his uncle and nephews, well they most definitely seemed to love it here, and whilst at first he could not understand why, now he most definitely could. His uncle seemed to love and cherish the freedom that came from the north, the ability to do as he pleased when he pleased and not truly face any serious repercussions. Tommen, had a friendship with the two Stark boys that reminded Tyrion of a healthier version of Robert and Lord Stark’s supposed friendship and he knew he viewed them more as brothers than he did his own brother. His nephew was like an almost mirror of Robert, whilst the king was somewhat fat and indulgent to his pleasures, Tommen was a hard worker and was every maiden’s fantasy, at least to Tyrion’s untrained eye. He was damned good with a hammer, and even better with a sword, and he had a level head on his shoulders. Tyrion did sometimes wish that Tommen had been born first, and not his shit of a brother. Alas the gods were cruel to prevent such a thing and such was the way of the world.  His other nephew Tyrek was quiet, often in Tommen’s shadow doing whatever it was that was called upon to be the group’s desired course of action for the day or night. And then there was Tyrion’s cousin Tywin Frey, a quiet boy, and not someone whom Tyrion paid that much attention to.

Of course Lady Stark’s absence from Winterfell was the one thing that Tyrion found somewhat suspicious, and as such he was somewhat reserved about what he said until he could truly gauge the mood of the castle. And that was the hard thing, he could not, not truly. If there was one thing that still remained the same, it was the fact that when they chose to be the Starks could incredibly tight lipped, and it seemed his uncle and nephews had learned that habit as well. It aggravated him no end, to the point where he supposes his uncle has asked to meet with him here in this brothel just to get him to stop asking. It is one Tyrion knows somewhat well, a place where Tyrion knew one could have a conversation and not fear being overheard for he had had one with his brother Jaime after the Stark boy Brandon had fallen. He looked at his uncle then and asked. “Well? What did you want to speak to me about uncle?” Tyrion asks.

His uncle looks around briefly and then whispers. “You need to stop asking where Lady Catelyn is Tyrion.”

Tyrion takes a swig of wine and then asks. “Why? I have not asked publically or even privately for around two weeks. Ever since I learned that I was not going to be getting a solid answer.”

“You talk when you are drunk. You talk a lot when you are not drunk. Still it looks bad if you continue asking even in ways that others do not think is asking. The northmen do not like their Starks being questioned about anything by an outsider. And as such you are an outsider for now. There is too much that they do not trust about you.” His uncle whispers.

“And you are not an outsider?” Tyrion asks.

His uncle shakes his head. “Not that much no. I have lived here for eight years, and Tommen has grown up here as has Tyrek. It is the case that they see Tommen and Tyrek as northmen. And the fact that I do not truly act like a Lannister means that it is easier for them to accept me as such. But you, you stand out a little bit. And that will be hard when the time comes.”

“What do you mean uncle?” Tyrion asks. “What is going on? You make it sound as if there is a war about to come.”

“There is. The northmen know it, and I know it. Everyone in Winterfell knows it, there has been unrest ever since young Bran was attacked, and they believe they know who is behind it.” His uncle replies.

Tyrion looks at his uncle and asks. “Do they think our family had anything to do with this? If so, what makes them think that?”

Tyrion sees his uncle look around the brothel, before whispering. “I think our family had something to do with this. Cersei and Jaime were nowhere to be seen for almost half the day when Bran fell, and then they suddenly appear as if they have been doing nothing more than talking for half the day. No they were doing something and I believe whatever it was they were doing Bran saw and they pushed him from that tower for it.”

Tyrion looks at his uncle a long time then pondering over this and then says. “I do not know uncle. It seems a bit convenient does it not? Besides it is not that much of a secret that the Starks do not like Jaime or Cersei so of course they would think of doing such a thing as blaming them.”

“But what other reason could there be. The boy never fell whilst climbing in the past and I refuse to believe that he did so now. There is only one reason that he could have fallen and that is because he was pushed. And the only two people who would have reason to do so are Jaime and Cersei. Your brother will do whatever your sister tells him to, and if they were doing something they were not supposed to be doing, then I can most definitely see your brother pushing that child from the tower.” His uncle replies.

“But what in the name of the seven could they have been doing that warranted pushing the boy from the tower, or even sending someone to kill the boy to stop him from talking if that was indeed the case. That does not seem like Jaime’s style, if anything, Jaime would have come and done it himself whilst he was still here in Winterfell and he would not have thought of the consequences. No there is someone else at work here.” Tyrion responds.

“That there was hair found in the tower where the boy had been climbing and the fact that that hair was golden means nothing then? It does not even seem suspicious to you Tyrion?” his uncle asks.

Tyrion gets a sinking feeling in his stomach, he can guess what his brother and sister were doing that day, and he can guess what it was the boy saw. He does not know how much his uncle knows or even suspects but one look at him and he knows, he just knows that his uncle is waiting for confirmation. Tyrion sighs then and asks. “Is that why Lady Stark is not here? Has she gone to seek justice from the king?”

His uncle looks at him grimly. “No, she has gone to speak to her husband, to see if they could learn more about the dagger that the assassin used. It was Valyrian steel, and as such was too valuable for some common vagabond to own it. Someone must have given it to him. And whilst there were some who believed the king to be responsible it was not Robert. The man is many things but he is not a child killer. Our family however, has that particular name thanks to your father.”

Tyrion sits there, a growing sense of horror enveloping him. He looks at his uncle and asks. “What do you want me to do?”

His uncle takes a deep sip of ale then and responds. “I want you to avoid going to King’s Landing for a little while yet. Wait until Lady Catelyn comes back or we receive word that is safe for you to leave. If Petyr Baelish has his way one of us will be going to Eyrie for some crime or the other.”

“Baelish? What has that man got to do with anything?” Tyrion asks confused.

“The man has an unusual fascination with the Starks, and Lady Catelyn. He wrote to me you know, a few times asking after them, trying to use some excuse as master of coin to gain information. I gave him nothing, but if he can he will use whatever he can to create hostilities between the Starks and the Lannisters. And I fear Lady Stark is not in her right mind.” His uncle responds.

Tyrion thinks on this a while, taking sips from his drink and pondering over what his uncle has said. Eventually he stops and says. “Whatever happens and whatever Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard discover about the attack, the betrothal between Joffrey and Lady Sansa will still stand. I have a feeling the king will want it to stand. He wants a Stark and Baratheon marriage pretty badly, to make up for the one he lost during the rebellion.”

He is surprised to see his uncle smile slyly at that. “I think that King Robert might get his Baratheon and Stark marriage but it might not be between Joffrey and Sansa. The king already prefers Tommen to Joffrey and all those statements he made about wanting Tommen as his heir, well if my sources are correct that could well be coming to fruition. And furthermore my sources are reporting that there has been a breakdown in communication between Lady Sansa and Joffrey, it seems their betrothal is very much on thin ice. And ice can break under the weight of a wolf and a lion.”

Tyrion looks at his uncle and smiles. “You have been working hard then I see? Doing what you can to ensure the seven kingdoms gets the right prince to follow Robert then?”

His uncle merely looks at him a moment before responding. “Well tell me Tyrion would you ever want to live in a realm where Joffrey is king?”

Tyrion pauses and thinks about that for a moment before responding. “No. I most definitely would not.”


	30. Second Son

**9 th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

It was an interesting little group that had assembled in Winterfell since his family had left. There was of course himself, Robb, Jon and Tyrek who had been friends since they were all quite young, they knew one another quite well, and knew what made each other tick. That was a good group, they had shared in laughs and in pranks and the hardships that they faced being young men growing up in the nobility. Then after his family had come and gone, they had been joined by Tommen’s cousin Tywin and his uncle Gerion’s daughter Joy. Both added a new sort of flavour to the group a new set of eyes and ears, and a new set of games that they could play. And whilst things had been tense between Jon and Tywin at first, things had settled down since uncle Gerion had given them all a right bollocking for what had been going on. The mere horror of what Tommen’s brother had done to Tywin left them all feeling rather ashamed of themselves. It was one thing to make fun of someone for something that might be true, it was another to make fun of someone for something that had been beyond their control.

And since Tommen had been communicating with Sansa and since learning about what had happened to his cousin, he had come to view his cousin as a brave man, someone he truly looked up to. Of course that did mean he was all the more worried about Sansa. Their letters had started off from around the time she and the royal party had arrived in the riverlands, communicating about small things, writing to pass the time. They had told each other about their days and so forth, and eventually begun talking about more personal things, then it had gone to them ending each letter with declarations of love. His heart ached for Sansa, it truly did, he wanted her, and he truly did, not just because she was beautiful, but because she was smart and funny and kind, and because she wanted him as well. She did not say so in as many words but he knew. And by the gods he missed her, he truly did. Which made it all the more painful and worrying for him knowing that Joffrey kept trying to take her down to the crypts, he kept fearing that one day she would write and say that it had happened. The mere thought of that, of his brother touching her made him angry. He was determined to end their betrothal, he was going to do it one way or another. He just did not know how.

Luckily though, it seemed his uncle Gerion did. It had been uncle Gerion who had asked them all to meet here in Lord Stark’s solar. Robb was sat in his father’s chair and was looking thoughtful as were they all. Uncle Gerion seemed quite tired, but at the same time there was an energy to him, that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. His voice was clear when he spoke. “Thank you all for coming. I know it all seems a bit strange calling this meeting but with things having gone as they have done, with the attack on Bran, and other strange occurrences, perhaps it is time we discussed a few things. Tommen if you would mention the letters.”

Tommen blushes slightly when Robb asks. “Letters? What letters?”

Tommen clears his throat slightly and then responds. “The letters Sansa has been sending me. Since she left Winterfell we have been communicating fairly frequently. And in her last few letters she has been mentioning a fair few worrying things about my brother and mother.”

“Why did you not tell me this?” Robb asks.

“Robb let Tom, tell us what he has to.” Jon says then.

Robb looks slightly bashful and merely nods for Tommen to continue. He takes a breath and then says. “It seems that my brother has been going on walks with Sansa, and showing her around the Red Keep. It also seems wherever he goes his squires go as well, and as such he has been playing the gallant knight for Sansa. But she knows there is something wrong, she knows he wants something from her. Add this to the fact that he keeps mentioning wanting to take her down to the crypts, and I fear he wants to rape her before their marriage.”

A long silence follows this and then Robb asks through gritted teeth. “He would not dare surely?”

“He dared to do it to me,” Tywin says. “I do not think he would think anything of doing it to Lady Sansa. Especially considering she is his betrothed. Unofficially he can do whatever he wants to her and get away with it. After all who would believe her over the crown prince?”

Tommen sees Robb’s fingers curl into a fist. “This is not right. Father must be informed. The king must be informed. Surely they can do something about this.”

“And what would you say to Lord Stark or my father Robb? Oh just so you know, your son is about to rape my sister. But I don’t have any solid proof of this?” Tommen says incredulously. “No, my father will not believe you and mother most certainly will not.”

“Then surely you must say something Tommen?” Jon responds. “You love Sansa, she loves you. You cannot feel comfortable about allowing this to happen. You must say something, your father will listen to you. Hells he wanted to name you his heir when he was here.”

Tommen considers this for a moment and then replies. “I have been thinking about it yes. I cannot stand here and allow Sansa to fall victim to my brother. My mother will do nothing but indulge him, but father, father actually has the power to stop him. I must speak with father. I have to end this farce of a betrothal before something bad happens."

His uncle speaks then the voice of caution. “Be careful Tommen. It is all well and good going to your father, but there are times when your father actually listens to your mother, and I have a feeling that this might well be one of those times. King Robert is not the bravest of men in the face of confrontation when it is verbal especially when it is from my sister.”

Tommen looks at his uncle Tyrion then and asks. “Then what do you suggest? It is not as if things will get any easier for Sansa, especially as Joffrey comes closer to being a man. That will only make it more and more difficult for anyone to stop him from doing what he wants.”

The look on his uncle’s face worries him somewhat. But it his uncle Gerion who provides the solution. “Perhaps now might be a good time for you to visit King’s Landing nephew. After all, there is a tourney that is supposed to be happening in honour of the hand. Perhaps you could compete in that. After competing and winning that tourney, your father would be far more inclined to listen to you than your mother. And perhaps he might even consider breaking the betrothal. After all he still does get the Baratheon and Stark marriage he so wants. In fact I do believe he will be getting two.”

Tommen looks at Robb then and smiles. “That is true, after all, Myrcella is flowered now. Perhaps if we were to go south, it might be the time to convince my father that my sister should come north to get to know you Robb.”

His friend blushes then. “Do you think your father would really be able to allow that?”

Tommen looks at his uncles and grins. “I am sure if I ask nicely enough he will. Besides he never has liked Joffrey, and as Jon did point out, he did want to name me his heir when he was here last. Perhaps that is something I should use to my advantage. I might be like my father, but I know my brother and mother, I know their games.”

There is a moment’s silence then, and then Jon asks. “Should I write to Joffrey? After all, he knows some of what is going on, but I think he is beginning to wonder why I have not written in a while.”

Tommen looks at his uncle Gerion whose face takes on a thoughtful expression. “Hmm, perhaps write to him and tell him that Tommen is considering coming to King’s Landing. Joffrey will then proceed to tell Cersei. And I know your mother will be delighted that you are coming home. No doubt she will think it is because you have grown tired of the north. She will be completely caught off guard.”

“Especially seeing as Lord Tywin has offered to make you heir to Casterly Rock. That could also be another reason that you could use for coming south.” His uncle Tyrion says.

An awkward silence follows this. “Uncle Tyrion I….” Tommen begins.

“No it is fine Tommen truly it is. I never wanted the Rock to begin with. It was all about spiting my father and sister. Perhaps if you do become heir to the Rock I can be of assistance.” His uncle replies.

Tommen swallows and then says. “I do not want the Rock, it is yours. Truly it is. But if it is something that will get me to King’s Landing and in front of my father then I will use it.”

“And you are right to do so nephew. You cannot go to King’s Landing without all sorts of plans ready to use in case someone were to ask a question about your purpose there. And with two of the sneakiest people in the known world currently in King’s Landing, you would be foolish not to be prepared.” His uncle replies.

It is Joy who speaks then her voice soft. “Do you think they are doing some mischief or the other cousin?”

His uncle nods. “I most definitely think so Joy. They are two of the most devious people I have ever met. They most definitely are plotting something. But to what end I do not know.”

That stirs something in Tommen’s memory and he asks his uncle. “Do you know anything about Jon Arryn uncle?”

“I know that his death was quite suspicious especially considering he was such a healthy man, and that there were many people who could benefit from his death.” His uncle replies.

Something that had been nagging at the back of his mind comes forth then. “Do you think my mother could have had anything to do with his death?”

His uncle looks at him curiously for a moment and then replies. “No I do not think so. Your mother had no reason for doing so. It would do nothing but hound her had she had anything to do with it. Why do you ask nephew?”

He knows the eyes of the room are on him and he hesitates for a moment and then says. “I do not know, but something just seemed a bit strange about his death is all. And I do not know, my mother did not seem as upset about his death as she did the fact that it was Lord Eddard and not Uncle Jaime or grandfather being named hand.”

He sees a look pass between his uncles that he is not sure what to make of. But his uncle Tyrion’s voice is full of cheer when he says. “Well your mother does not really like anyone who is not a lion.”

They all laugh at that and Tommen wonders if he imagined the look that passed between his two uncles. But he looks at Robb and Jon and knows by the expression on their faces that they have seen it too. His uncle Gerion stops the laughter by saying. “Whilst it is all well and good making fun of the queen, we do have a journey to plan do we not my prince?”


	31. Hand

**10 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

King’s Landing a place of treachery and deceit, most of the people in this damned city had no honour, and what little honour there was here was easily bought off. It sickened him, truly it did. And yet he could find no way to actively leave the city without causing some sort of trouble for himself or his family. Already with what Cat had told him there was tension, so much tension between himself and the Queen. He did not think the woman suspected that he thought her responsible for the attack on Bran, and yet Cat had not yet sent word that she had returned to Winterfell and so he was beginning worry, had something happened to her? Had she been caught and was she being held prisoner. Sansa and Arya were not speaking to one another either, some squabble or the other had occurred whilst he had not been looking and now they were drifting apart. That was another worry, King’s Landing was a dangerous place, and being torn apart because of it was something that Ned could not afford to allow to happen to his family. To add to his concerns, was the fact that he had not been able to turn up anything significant in regards to Jon Arryn’s death. There were loose ends and then there were more loose ends it was frustrating.

He sincerely hoped that Petyr Baelish had some answers for him, otherwise agreeing to meeting with him now would have been a mistake. Ned did not trust Baelish, did not trust him at all, despite his sweet words to Cat, there was something in the man’s eyes that irked Ned. Still any information he could get would be useful. And so he steeled himself as he looked at the man before him and said. “Thank you for coming my lord. I would not have asked you to come here when there is much else you could be doing, if there was some other way I could go about doing this. But since our previous meeting, there has been little in the way of reward for my efforts and I was wondering if you had any more to give me?”

There is a twinkle in the man’s eyes at his words that Ned does not like. His voice is soft as always when he replies. “Why my lord hand, I am honoured you thought to come to me for help. I did say to Cat that I would help you in any way I could. And so I am happy to say I think I might well have some news on the dagger that was used in the attempt on your wife and son.”

Ned blinks at the man surprised. He had almost given up hope of finding out more about the dagger. He looks at Baelish and asks. “Well what have you found out?”

The man takes his time in answering and Ned can feel his heart beating much quicker now. “Well as you know, the dagger did come from King’s Landing, and there are thoughts that King Robert might have had something to do with it. Of course I can safely say King Robert knows nothing of the dagger, he probably does not even know he has such a dagger or that it has gone missing. No my sources report that the dagger was taken from his possession during the royal family’s time in Winterfell. It was taken by someone close to the King who could have easy access to his weapons without too much attention being drawn.”

A sense of anticipation fills Ned then and he asks. “Who? Was it the queen?”

The master of coin laughs softly then. “The Queen? Oh come now my lord, the queen and the king do not have such a good relationship that the queen could ask for use of the king’s weapons and not have questions raised. No, one of the king’s own children was the one who took the dagger from his collection and used it.”

Ned is horrified by the revelation he looks at the man and asks. “Who was it? And why would one of Robert’s children try to have my son killed?”

“Think about it my lord. King Robert is an awe inspiring figure even in his current state. His children no doubt worship him especially his sons. And as such would no doubt wish to earn his favour. It is possible they over heard the King talking about your son to his wife and decided to act in their father’s orders or wishes. A child’s mistake.” Baelish replies.

Ned feels anger grow inside of him. “A mistake that nearly cost me my son and my wife. These are some very serious accusations my lord. Where did you get such information from and how do I know it can be trusted?”

The man tries to look offended but Ned suspects he is actually enjoying this. There is something wrong with Baelish, and it irks Ned to no end. “I should be offended that you would question whether what I bring to you is the truth my lords. But I will pretend I did not hear that. You can trust the information that I have given you, because it has come from someone who is close to the prince. Someone who knows the prince well and was there when the boy gave the dagger and money to the man who tried to kill your son and wife.”

Ned looks at the man for a long moment, his patience running thin, eventually he asks. “Who was it that you spoke to Baelish? And do not play anymore games with me.”

“Ah yes the famous Stark patience at work there I see,” Baelish quips and when Ned makes to move out of his chair the man says hurriedly. “Mors Rosby. That’s who told me. Mors Rosby.”

The name hits Ned hard, he recognises it from somewhere and then it hits home. “Prince Joffrey’s squire? That is who told you? Why would Joffrey want my son dead?”

Baelish tuts then. “Come now my lord, have you not been paying attention to anything I have been saying? Surely you have realised by now that the crown prince hungers for his father’s approval. The fact that the King seems to favour his twin more, would no doubt have angered him, and so, when an opportunity presented itself to do something that might well have gotten him plaudits from his father, well the boy took it.”

Ned feels anger pooling in his stomach, anger a lot of anger pooling in his stomach at the words that Baelish has just said, and the fact that he has said them so casually that makes him angrier as well. He looks at the man and says. “Robert must know of this. Prince Joffrey has done something terribly wrong and he must face the consequences of his actions.”

The man looks smug then, and Ned can feel his anger growing, like a wolf awakening from a deep slumber. “And if you tell King Robert, then what? Who is he going to believe? You, or his son? In fact who is the queen going to believe? You or her son? I think we both know the answer to that one.”

“You could tell them what you know. Mors Rosby could tell them what he knows. They would have to know that this is the truth. Surely it would make sense to them?” Ned says desperately.

Baelish laughs then and Ned feels his patience with the man running out. “Surely you are not that naïve my lord? Bring Mors Rosby before the king and queen and he will deny any knowledge of what Joffrey might have said or done. He is not stupid despite his appearance, he knows who it is that allows him the riches he so enjoys. If he talks against Prince Joffrey he will be done for. The Queen will never believe you, and the king, well the king will not want to believe you. And I will not speak up against the crown prince, I can very well lose my head for doing so.”

Ned looks at the man and he feels anger begin to grow inside of him. “What do you suggest I do then? Merely let it go? Allow the boy who tried to kill my son and wife to go free?”

“I would suggest you wait. There will be time enough to get revenge on Prince Joffrey. Plenty of time. The boy fears you, use that to your advantage my lord and you will get your revenge. It might not be instant, but it will be more gratifying than getting it right now.” Baelish replies.

Ned is not entirely convinced by the man, and says as much. “I do not know, my lord. Justice must be had. I must get justice for my son and my wife. Prince Joffrey must pay for the crime he has committed.”

Baelish stands up then and says softly. “Then you shall be wasting your time, and putting your family in all sorts of danger. The queen and her family will not rest until you are dead if you go through with your plan my lord. Something for you to think about. Now if you would excuse me I have a tournament to finance.” With that the man turns and walks out of the room.

Ned is left alone with his thoughts, and he does not like them. So much is running through his mind right now. Prince Joffrey tried to have Bran and Cat killed, he tried to have them killed for nothing more than a chance to earn some recognition from Robert. The thought sits uneasy on him, it disturbs him, and it unnerves him. He is not sure Robert is aware of just how adverse and affect he is having on his son. He runs a hand through his hair and thinks to himself that he has betrothed his daughter to a monster. Sansa is betrothed to Prince Joffrey, the boy who tried to kill her brother and mother. By the gods what has he done? What has he done? He needs to get his family out of King’s Landing and quickly. But of course the damned tourney is going to be happening fairly soon. By the gods why did he allow this to happen? This is all his fault. All of it, he has put his family into this zone of danger and now there is no way out.

His thoughts are still spinning, they are still a mess when there is a knock on the door. He calls for whoever it is to enter, and finds himself looking at Ser Meryn Trant. He detests the man but listens as he says. “The king wishes to speak with you my lord hand.”

Ned looks at the man and asks. “Did his grace say what about?”

“No.” Trant says curtly.

Ned sighs and stands, he follows Trant from the tower of the hand through the corridors and passageways of the red Keep to where Robert’s solar is. Ser Barristan stands guard as always. Ned gives the man a nod before he is announced and told to enter. Robert looks sober for once, a strange sight considering how he usually is. And his face which was filled with life, lights up even more when he sees Ned. “Ah Ned. You’re here. Come in come in.” Robert booms. Ned enters and sits down where Robert points. “Tommen was just telling me about something he and your sons got up to at Winterfell. It seemed like good fun.”

Tommen’s name draws Ned’s attention to figure standing to Robert’s left, Tommen looks healthy, his blond hair is a dark shade, and his frame is much more muscular. Ned knows he is doing a poor job of masking his surprise when he asks. “Prince Tommen? When did you get here? How are you?”

The prince gives a booming laugh much like Robert’s and says. “I got here a few moments ago my lord. I am well thank you. And I am here to discuss ending my brother’s betrothal to Lady Sansa.”


	32. Ending a Betrothal

**10 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

His heart is beating rather quickly as he looks at Lord Stark, the man has not yet noticed him and as such he has kept quiet, but when he hears his father say. “Tommen was just telling me about something he and your sons got up to at Winterfell. It seemed like good fun.” He sees the surprise on Stark’s face, and whilst he appreciates his father’s comment, he wishes his father could have been a bit more subtle.

Stark’s face is full of surprise when he asks. “Prince Tommen? When did you get here? How are you?”

Tommen to hide his nerves, gives a booming laugh which reminds him a bit of his father’s laughter. ““I got here a few moments ago my lord. I am well thank you. And I am here to discuss ending my brother’s betrothal to Lady Sansa.”

Something akin to relief passes over Lord Stark’s face then and Tommen wonders about that. He wonders if his brother has truly revealed all of his true colours before he had the chance to expose him. Something akin to disappointment blooms inside of him, he wants to be the one to expose Joffrey. But he quietens his thoughts when Stark speaks. “You wish to end Prince Joffrey’s betrothal to my daughter my prince? Should Prince Joffrey not be here as well then?”

Tommen takes a deep breath, his heart hammering and replies. “I believe that if my brother were here, he would spin all sorts of lies and protestations and in the end he would not speak truly. I believe it is better that he is not here.”

Lord Stark looks at his father then for confirmation and Tommen is grateful when his father says. “I quite agree. There is something not right with my son today. it is better if Tommen is here and not Joffrey.”

Lord Stark nods and then says. “And why pray tell my prince, do you think that your brother’s betrothal to my daughter should be ended? What reasons do you have for this?”

Tommen can tell Lord Eddard is asking him to confirm something, what it is he does not know, but Tommen knows that Stark is already considering his options. There is something more going on here, something he does not know. And yet, he takes a breath and then replies. “Because I believe my brother to be unfit to wed your daughter my lord. Prince Joffrey is my brother that is true, and he is many things, but kind is not one of them. I am sure you know by now of things that he has said and done. He has I am sure acted kind and sincere, and yet we all know that he is cruel and horrible. The incident at Darry and on the Kingsroad is proof enough of that. The damage he caused in Winterfell. He is a danger to all of us, especially Sansa.”

Lord Stark looks at him a moment and then says. “I know that the boy is trouble, but that is not enough reason to end the betrothal. Would you not say so Your Grace?”

Tommen looks at his father, who nods. “Aye, Ned is right Tommen, we must have more reason to end this betrothal than the dangers the boy poses. Has Lady Sansa said anything to you about her betrothal?”

Tommen feels something like hope spring up inside of him, and silently thanking his uncle Gerion for reminding him to take some of the letters Sansa had written to him, he pulls out two of the letters and hands them to his father and to Lord Stark. “These are letters that Sansa wrote to me whilst on the way to King’s Landing and whilst here. I know it is somewhat wrong to be communicating with my brother’s betrothed like this, but we could not help it, we missed one another and wished to communicate. As you can see from the letters, Sansa is worried about her betrothal. Truly worried.”

Lord Stark is the first one to speak. “By the gods, why did she not come to me with her concerns? I had asked her so many times if she wanted this betrothal to stand.”

Tommen swallows and says. “I know it is not my place to comment my lord, but Sansa has said in her letters that she did not want to burden you with her troubles. That you had more than enough to worry about and she did not want to disappoint you.”

Lord Stark looks worried and hurt then, a brief flicker of emotion in a usually emotionless face. “She should have said something. I would have come before you sooner Robert.”

“You were considering coming to me to discuss ending this betrothal?” Tommen’s father asks surprised looking at his old friend.

Tommen looks at Lord Stark, and sees something pass over his face, as if he wants to say something, but stops himself from saying so. Instead he takes a breath and says. “Aye, I was going to ask if we could end this betrothal and instead have Sansa be betrothed to you Prince Tommen or return home. I did not truly feel comfortable with the way Prince Joffrey was behaving around her.”

Tommen feels dumbfounded by this. His father does as well it seems. “Well why did you not just come to me Ned? We could have sorted this whole issue out sooner rather than later. But tell me Tommen, do you know what Lady Sansa means when she refers to the crypts? Why the hells would Joffrey want to take her down to look at the bones of dragonspawn?”

Tommen looks up and sees both men looking at him intently. He remembers Tywin’s description of what happened in the crypts and his hands curl into fists, as anger envelops him. He takes deep breaths before speaking. “I think he wants to carry out some sort of ritual with Sansa. He did it to Tywin as well father. He’s done it to his squires.”

His father groans then and Tommen is hit by the shocking realization that his father must have known about it, or heard about it. Something that is confirmed when he says. “I did not think the boy was serious. Gods man, this has to stop now.”

“What is going on here? Robert?” Lord Stark asks fear colouring his voice.

Tommen’s father does not reply immediately, but instead says. “Ned get someone to get your daughter. Get someone to bring her here now.”

Lord Stark nods and walks out of the room, words are exchanged and then Lord Stark walks back in looking very concerned. “What is going on Robert? What does Tommen mean?”

Tommen looks at his father and sees worry and concern etched onto his face. “Something bad will happen if we do not stop this right now. This betrothal will end I promise you Ned. I will not let any harm come to your daughter.”

“What are you going on about Robert?” Lord Stark asks.

“Joffrey, Joffrey has strange ways of doing things my lord.” Tommen says, trying to help his father, who is floundering for an explanation.

“Strange ways? What do you mean?” Lord Stark asks.

Before Tommen has cause to think of explanation, there is a knock on the door and then Sansa walks in. there is a moment of surprise across her face as she sees him, and Tommen is left breathless by how beautiful she looks. Her cheeks are rosy, her hair is down, and gods, she is beautiful. Durran comes in as well purring. And Tommen as if on instinct goes and stands next to her. He takes her hand and kisses it. “You are well my lady?” he asks.

Sansa blushes slightly and replies. “I am my prince. To what do I owe this invitation?”

Tommen’s father speaks then. “Tell me girl, did you write these letters?” his father hands Sansa the letters.

She looks at him a moment as if in question, and he merely nods at the letters. Sansa looks at them blushing slightly and her voice is soft when she replies. “I did Your Grace.”

“So you do not wish for your betrothal to stand with my son?” father asks.

Tommen, still holding Sansa’s hand looks at her then. She is silent for a long time, and Tommen can feel his nerves increasing and his heart hammering in his chest. Eventually she replies. “I do not Your Grace.”

“And why is that?” father asks.

Sansa looks at him then and he smiles encouragingly. She takes a deep breath and then replies. “Because I am in love with Tommen Your Grace. I wish to marry Tommen.”

Tommen squeezes her hand, and smiles at her. He then looks at his father to see him looking intently at them both. His father’s voice is filled with amusement when he says. “Well Ned, that seems like ample reason to end Joffrey’s betrothal do you not? Cersei will no doubt be pleased.”

Tommen looks at Lord Stark and sees that he is also looking at the two of them. His voice is soft when he replies. “I do believe so Your Grace.”

His father looks at him then and asks. “And what of you Tommen. Do you wish to marry the Lady Sansa?”

Tommen looks at Sansa then and feels his chest expand, he loves her, he truly does, and he raises her hand to his lips then and kisses it. Then turns to look at his father and says. “I do father, truly I do. I love her, I always have.”

His father claps his hands together then, and in his booming voice says. “Well that’s that settled then. Your betrothal to my eldest son is at an end Lady Sansa. From this day forth you are officially betrothed to my son Prince Tommen. Ned, as hand it is your job to write up the agreement. We shall have a feast to celebrate this.”

Tommen grins then and says. “Thank you father!”

“Thank you Your Grace.” Sansa replies.

His father laughs then. “Go on you two, just remember that you have to meet your grandfather tonight Tommen.”

“Of course father.” Tommen says before turning and leading Sansa out of his father’s solar, Durran following them. Ser Arys who was standing outside, comes with them and as they leave his father’s rooms, he feels his heart hammering in his chest, he is betrothed to Sansa, the girl he has dreamed of for so long. He stops then and pulls Sansa to him, she fits into him so well. He looks down at her and smiles.

She smiles back and then stands on her tiptoes and kisses him. Their lips meet in a heated embrace. Gods he has waited so very long for this, ever since their kiss at Winterfell, this has to be better than that. Their lips meet, and then their tongues dance, and Tommen feels something stir in him when he hears Sansa moan. Their tongues lock and then break apart and gods it feels so good. Her hands are on his chest now, and his are in her hair playing with it, feeling how soft it is. It feels so good to be doing this.  When they break apart, they are both breathing heavily and Tommen smiles at how rosy her cheeks are. He places a hand lovingly on her cheek. “I missed you.” He whispers.

“I missed you as well.” Sansa replies, looking at him lovingly.

He leans down and kisses her again, and this time when their tongues meet his hands stray down her chest and gods this is bliss. Her lips are soft, and tender, and loving. Gods he thinks he could burst now. He has waited so long for this, so very long for this. His heart flutters when he hears Sansa whine in protest when he breaks their kiss. He takes a strand of her hair on his fingers and whispers. “I love you.”

His heart soars when he hears her say. “I love you too my prince. My golden prince.”

 


	33. Queen Mother

**10 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Cersei Lannister**

The Starks were growing, they were everywhere it was angering to her. Cersei Lannister did not like Eddard Stark or his brood of wolves, she wanted him gone and she wanted him gone now. But her husband was convinced the sun shined out of Stark’s arse and so the man had to remain here. It was frustrating and very annoying, and yet Cersei had managed to deal with it. What she could not deal with was the fact that it seemed Stark seemed to be getting closer to the truth, about what had happened at Winterfell that day and subsequently. It was worrying her, Stark would tell her husband and Robert, the oaf would believe Stark over her. That thought was one that was still bitter to her even after all these years. She could not help that, but still there were other things worrying her as well. The Stark girls, they were a constant danger, the eldest Sansa was a beautiful girl, and Cersei could only hear the prophecy the words that the witch had spoken all those years ago. Fear that was what she felt, fear of a little girl.

 And now there was this. She had been walking toward her husband’s solar for one reason or another when she had heard screaming coming from her son’s room. She had immediately gone to see what the matter was, and now here she was holding her son as he raged. “I cannot believe this. Tommen has stolen my betrothed. My betrothed. He has stolen her and father has let him do it.”

“What do you mean Tommen has stolen your bride Joffrey? Tommen is in Winterfell with those savages.” Cersei replies.

“Clearly not mother. Father claims that Tommen came to see him this morning and as such they broke the betrothal. Lord Stark agreed to it. As did Sansa. This is not acceptable mother. I am the elder brother, not Tommen.” Her son rages.

Whilst Cersei feels some relief, there is still some anger there. “Of course sweetling. You are the crown prince and you should get what you want. Your brother perhaps thought he was doing you a favour by taking the Stark girl from your hands. We both know you did not like her.”

Joffrey pulls away then and says. “I did not, not like the Sansa mother. It was the brat Arya I did not like. Sansa was actually quite pretty, and she was someone I could have used. She knew a lot of things about Tommen you know. Things that we could have used.”

Cersei wonders at this, the Stark girl never seemed all that clever to her. “And what pray tell could Sansa offer you that Jon Snow could not?”

Her son grins then, and Cersei is reminded of a lion before it kills its prey. “A way to play with Tommen’s heart. It is quite clear that he loves Sansa, using her would have been a way for us to get Tommen to play for us instead of on his own with the cur. And now, now it seems the cur has gotten there before us. Again.”

“Gerion is here?” Cersei asks her son surprised how was she not made aware of this.

“Yes. The cur is here, along with Jon Snow. It seems that they came by ship and went straight either to the tower of the hand or to see father. I know Jon is at the tower, I do not know where the cur is.” Her son replies.

“And what of your brother?” Cersei asks.

“With his new betrothed. Apparently they make quite the couple. I will not allow that to stand mother. Sansa is mine, and I intend to keep it that way. I am the older brother not Tommen. I should get what I want.” Her son says once more.

“Of course sweetling. What else did your father say to you?” Cersei asks.

“He said that we shall be having a feast today to celebrate Tommen and Sansa’s betrothal. This is unacceptable mother. I will not allow Tommen to have something of mine. I want this betrothal broken. And I want it broken sooner rather than later.” Joffrey says.

There is something about the way her son says that, that worries Cersei, but she pushes that to the back of her mind and says. “Well the tourney shall be happening soon. And it is likely that your brother will be competing. We can find ways to make him change his mind, after all there will be many beautiful maidens there wanting to find favour with him and with you. You must show yourself to be the better prince to the realm and to Sansa.”

“I am the better Prince that is not something I need to work on. Tommen is only good at hitting things. I know how to hold a conversation and now that Jon is here I can find out more about my brother, and how to beat him.” Her son replies.

“Will the bastard be joining your squires?” Cersei asks wondering if this could be used against Stark.

“Yes, of course. He must still prove himself loyal to me. And I mean fully loyal, I need someone to replace Tywin as well. What will you do about the cur mother?” her son replies.

Cersei considers this for a moment and then says. “I will find out what I can, and I shall get it done. Gerion shall not be a thorn in our plans for much longer sweetling.”

“Good.” Her son replies. “And perhaps the fact that grandfather is here as well will mean Tommen will be leaving for good. It would be an improvement I think and something that would make doing what needs to be done so much easier as well.”

Again, there is something in the way her son speaks that unnerves her, but she pushes it firmly back down and says. “Yes my sweetling. Your father will be dead by the end of the tourney. And this time there will be not enough to stop him from competing. Your way to the throne will be much smoother this time.”

“Good.” Her son says his voice calmer. “You may go now mother.”

Cersei nods. “Very well sweetling.”  She turns and walks out of her son’s room. Jaime who had been standing guard outside follows her. As she walks, her thoughts are somewhat troubled, it seems her uncle is working far quicker than she thought he would. This betrothal between Tommen and Sansa is troubling, it gives her second son the support of the north, and with Stannis not back in King’s Landing, gods there are too many things happening outside of her control. She does not like it, she will need to speed things up regarding Robert. He will need to suffer before this is all over. She will have her revenge.

When they eventually return to her rooms, Jaime comes inside as he always does and Cersei vents. “So of course my bastard of a husband had to break the betrothal now. When his favourite son has come back and asked so nicely. We would not be in this mess had he only listened to me when we were in Winterfell.”

She feels her brother’s arms wrap around her. “Well when has Robert ever listened to anything anyone but Jon Arryn said to him?”

She moans with satisfaction as she feels her brother kiss her neck and his hands work their way down her chest down to where she is steadily growing wet. “Never…and that shall be his downfall. I cannot believe that now with one betrothal broken, another has been made. Can Robert not be happy with the betrothal he has forced my daughter into?”

Her brother is kissing her neck and his hands are slowly working their way down and she knows coherent thought will soon leave her but still. “He will not be alive for much longer, and then you can do what you want. You can end both betrothals if you truly wish. There will be nothing stopping you.”

Cersei moans aloud again, feeling the wetness spreading. “Joffrey….Joffrey wants to marry Sansa. That cannot happen. She is….she is too dangerous.”

Her brother is biting her ear now, gods it always feels so good. “She is just a girl. What danger could she be? Her father, her father on the other hand, he is more of a danger.”

She is often surprised that Jaime can think so clearly whilst they are doing this, and yet other times he cannot. She pulls apart from him and gives a little smirk when he whines in protest. “What do you mean brother?”

“Stark is getting closer to our trail sister. I spoke to some of your spies. And I know that he has found some book Arryn was reading. Sooner or later he will know about us, and we must do something before then. Robert might well need to die before hand. That is of course, unless you want me to kill him for you?” her brother asks a smirk on his face.

Cersei walks toward her brother and kisses him then. Their tongues duelling for dominance she pulls him to her and then breaks the kiss, she looks at him and whispers. “I want you brother. I want you now.” As so often is the case, Jaime needs no further encouragement and as such begins removing his clothes as she does the same, and when they are both stark naked, she kisses him on the lips and then begins moving her way down his body. Kissing and touching, revelling in this man who is her, who is all hers.

She gets to his cock then and smiles when she sees that is hard, as hard as rock. She kisses the tip and then puts it in her mouth lathing it with her tongue. Her brother groans and as his hands come to grip her hair, she takes him deeper in her mouth, she does this over and over again, until she knows he is about to cum, and then she removes her lips from his cock and moves up to kiss him on the lips. As so often with them, Jaime knows just what she wants and he begins moving down her as well, and begins kissing her womanly parts. She tightens her hold on his hair as he does so, moaning and groaning in pleasure. She feels her orgasm hit her like a wave, one rush after another, until she slackens against him. She feels him pick her up then and they move to the bed where they begin once more.

This is how it is supposed to be, the two of them. They are one and the same, and no one else can have one whilst the other still lives. As Jaime thrusts inside her she gives herself to him, and then takes charge. This goes on and on until they have both spent themselves. Resting her head on his chest, she feels his arms on her and says softly. “We must deal with Gerion as well. He cannot know the truth, otherwise all is in danger.”

“Uncle Gerion will not do anything. Not with father being here.” Her brother says sleepily.

“And what will father do if he comes and finds us like this?” Cersei says suddenly realising.

“He is with the king, he won’t be here for some time.” Her brother replies lazily.

And whilst Cersei wants to take comfort from that she knows her father. And so she sits up and says to Jaime. “You must go. You must stand guard, we cannot be caught not now.”

Her brother takes his time to get up, but once he does he is changed relatively quickly, he even puts his armour on which had been discarded before all of this. He kisses her then and says. “I will be thinking of you sister.”

She does not respond as her brother leaves and goes to stand guard outside. There are too many pieces at play now, the game has become more complicated, and someone will need to die.

 


	34. Runestone

**10 th Month of 298 A.C. Runestone**

**Lord Yohn Royce**

The Vale was stirring, since Jon Arryn’s death, grievances and grudges that had been buried were coming back to the surface. There were old wounds being reopened and there was tension, a lot of tension. Lysa Arryn was shut away in the Eyrie, content to play court to any number of suitors whilst the overall affairs of the Vale were left to ruin, there was nothing that the woman was not content to overlook, she overlooked everything, from the most minor of squabbles to full corruption. It angered Yohn, it angered him a lot to see the hard work that his old friend had put in so easily dismantled, by the Tully cow. She was going to be the end of the Arryn line, and the boy, the boy Yohn was not so convinced that the boy was Jon’s son, indeed he was certain that that rogue Baelish was the father. And yet there was no much he could, it was frustrating, thankfully he was not alone in his frustrations.

Lords Belmore, Templeton, Melcolm and Lady Waynwood were all dissatisfied with the way Lysa Arryn was running things and so had agreed to meet at Runestone to discuss that as well as other matters. Yohn looked around his solar and saw that they were all filled with either anticipation or fear about what he was about to say. He takes a deep breath and then says. “My lords and lady, thank you all for coming here. We all know why we have agreed to meet. The Vale is falling into a state of chaos, Lysa Arryn remains content to sit in the Eyrie and play lady to a host of suitors, all the while never intending to marry a single one of them. This has allowed those fools in Corbray and Grafton to grow more powerful. The Vale is stirring and we must decide what course it will take when it wakes.”

Lady Anya Waynwood speaks then. “Lady Catelyn Stark remains in the Eyrie right now. I do not know fully what she and her sister discuss, but I feel it would not be too much of a stretch to imagine them discussing Jon Arryn’s murder.”

“Are we convinced then that Lord Jon was murdered?” Lord Belmore asks tentatively.

“There can be no other reasonable explanation for his sudden death.” Yohn says firmly. “Lord Jon was a healthy man, old yes, but healthy. More than likely he could have outlived us all had he so wanted to. And such a man does not suddenly fall ill and die as quickly as he did. No he was poisoned.”

“But who would want to murder him? Surely whoever did so would know that the Lords and Ladies of the Vale would find out as would the king?” Lord Belmore says.

“It would not surprise me if the Lannisters were responsible for Lord Jon’s death,” Yohn says. “It would sit well with what they want. Increased control over the throne and not a single thing able to stand in their way.”

“Would they risk it though? Would they risk being caught out to achieve something they are already doing? The king we all know is not the most attentive of people, and Lord Jon himself was not able to successfully stem the increasing Lannister presence. One way or another they were getting control over the capital. Why kill him?” Lord Belmore asks.

“If Lord Jon was looking into things that perhaps the Lannisters did not want him looking into? That could be a reason for why they decided to kill him.” Lord Melcolm says speaking for the first time.

“But what sort of things could these be? What secret could the Lannisters have that is so big and so incriminating that they are willing to kill over?” Lord Belmore asks.

Yohn sighs, this is a question he has debated himself. “Whatever it was, it was enough to press Lady Lysa into fleeing the capital and returning here. And it must have been enough for her to believe her husband murdered.”

“But then why has she not sought justice? Why has she not looked to the king and asked him for the justice that such a crime would deserve? Why does she sit in her castle, happy to play hostess whilst the Vale stews?” Lord Belmore asks.

“Because Lady Lysa has never been the bravest of women.” Lady Anya says. “She is more mouse than falcon. Always has been. She will make accusations but so long as the Lannisters do not come calling she will be happy to sit and wait. She will be happy to allow justice to go unanswered whilst she courts danger.”

“Then Queen no doubt understands that. That is why she has not asked Lady Lysa to come back. Even though there was talk of her son fostering with Tywin Lannister.” Lord Melcolm says.

“Tywin Lannister? I do not think Jon Arryn would trust his son and heir to a man such as Tywin Lannister. You must have misheard.” Yohn says.

Lord Melcolm a proud man, and a cunning one as well replies. “That is possible my lord, but I do not know, why would my sources make this up? There is no reason for them to, and it does fit in well with what we know of the Lannisters. I would not put it past them to try and gain more influence through Lord Robert.”

Yohn considers this for a moment and then replies. “That is troubling. Very troubling. The lord of the Eyrie fostering with the Lannisters? There would be all kinds of chaos because of that. And yet if Lady Lysa believes it will keep the lions away from her and her accusations she might well allow it.”

Lady Anya snorts at that. “I do not think Lady Lysa will be content to allow her son to go anywhere out of her sight, let alone to the Westerlands. She is far too protective of that boy, it is not healthy. There are some things that must needs be done to ensure that he is not a weakling. And yet she does not allow it to happen.”

Yohn rubs his temple in frustration. “Why? Why does she not allow the boy to grow up as any other boy should do? This over protectiveness will be the downfall of House Arryn. And that is something I will not allow.”

Lord Melcolm speaks then. “It does not need to be the downfall of House Arryn my lord, for you have Lord Robert’s heir as your squire do you not?”

“Harry? Harry is older than Robert yes, and is healthier that is true. And yet Robert is Jon Arryn’s true heir. He is his son, what you are hinting at is wrong.” Yohn replies.

“But would it not be better if Harry were to sit in the falcon throne than a boy who is nothing of Jon Arryn and all of his mother? Lysa Arryn courts danger, she courts it whether willingly or unwillingly I do not know. But a man such as Lyn Corbray as Lord Protector? That is a Vale that I do not want to see. There would be war, constantly. You know this, we all know this. So why not do something about it. Harry is someone who would make a good heir, it is time he was turned into a good lord.” Lord Melcolm replies.

 

“Lord Melcolm is right Yohn,” Anya says. “Robert Arryn will be corrupted by whoever it is his mother chooses to marry. Be it Grafton or Corbray or even Hunter, the Vale will be set to light and there will be war. Arryn will be nothing but a puppet, and that is something none of us want. Harry would make a good Lord, a truly good lord.”

Yohn considers this a moment, before looking at Lord Belmore, the look on the man’s face is one of confusion, lust and desire, he wonders if the man is spying on them. His voice is soft when he asks. “Benedar you have been awfully quiet on this matter. I would have thought considering the impact all of this could have on you, that you would have something to say?”

The man’s flustered expression is more than enough proof for Yohn. “I…why yes of course. I think that Harry would make a good lord as well. But the question is how does one ensure that comes to pass? So long as Lysa Arryn is alive, the boy will remain alive.”

Putting his suspicions to the side for a moment Yohn replies. “That is true, and yet as Anya and Jasper have said, should Lady Lysa marry Lord Hunter or even Lyn Corbray, she will not live long enough to see her son into adulthood. Perhaps, and this is going against my sounder notions, we should allow such a thing to come to pass?”

Belmore looks surprised by this. “You want to allow Lady Lysa to marry one of those two? But I thought they were the reason this meeting was being held? If Lady Lysa marries either one of those two men then our chances of gaining revenge for Lord Jon vanish.”

 _And is that truly such a bad thing for you Belmore?_ Yohn wonders. Aloud he merely says. “That is true, but it does give us more reason to begin working on ensuring their fall is sped up. Of course we could always encourage Horton to pursue his marriage proposal or indeed one of his sons.”

“Redfort? You’d want Redfort or one of his brood married to Lady Lysa? Then our chances of getting justice would evaporate more quickly than a whore does.” Belmore pouts.

“Horton and his sons were extremely loyal to Lord Jon, they would continue to be so to Robert. That might not be such a bad choice.” Yohn muses. Taking some pleasure as the colour drains from Belmore’s face.

“So you would not want Harry to be put into a position where he could take over straight away should something befall Lady Lysa or seven forbid Lord Robert?” Lord Melcolm asks.

“Oh Harry will be trained alright. But we must keep all our options open. I want to know what is being discussed in the Eyrie. I want to know what the Tully sisters are discussing.” Yohn replies.

“I shall be able to inform you of that soon my lord. I shall be going to the Eyrie to meet with them both on the morrow. When I am done I shall write to you. It should not be hard, I do not think Lady Stark is working for the Lannisters though the Lannister presence at Winterfell is a worry.” Lady Anya replies.

Yohn nods. “That is a concern. And whilst Gerion Lannister might not be his brother or even his niece, he is still a Lannister and experience has taught me that a Lannister no matter who they are can never be trusted. That Lord Stark seems to trust the man is worrying. Perhaps there is more to it than we know, but at the same time it seems for now we must rely on ourselves to get to the bottom of this mess.”

The others nod, and then Lord Benedar asks. “So what decision are we making on Lady Lysa’s marriage proposals? Do we allow Hunter and Corbray to continue or not?”

Yohn looks at the man for a long time before responding, he looks at how his face is made in such a way as to try and hide his anxiousness and yet Yohn knows that the man is truly worried. Perhaps he is working for Lysa, perhaps for Grafton, or perhaps even to that worm Baelish. Whoever it is, Yohn intends to remain as cryptic as possible and not give too much away, though he does admit that perhaps too much has been given away already. “Aye we shall allow them to continue their proposals, and we shall also encourage Horton to encourage his sons to put forward their names for Lady Lysa’s consideration.”


	35. An Evil Prince

**10 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Jon Snow**

King’s Landing smelled. It smelled of corruption and greed, he could not wait to leave the damned place. The red keep was the worst offender for this, it reeked of those who had given themselves over to the corruption and the greed and all the worst offences that Jon had been told of growing up. The journey had been a struggle, he did not like sea travel, and he missed Ghost, he had left his direwolf behind to serve as some protection for Joy. Joy, he missed her, truly he did. He missed her smile and her conversation, he wondered what she would say if he were to ask for her hand, but perhaps it was too soon. He had been tasked with speaking with Joffrey, and he dreaded every moment of it. He despised the prince, truly he did and could not understand why he had thought that the prince was good before. There was nothing but evil in the prince’s heart, and yet he had to stand through all of it.

“So tell me Jon, why did my brother come to King’s Landing with my uncles?” the prince asks.

Jon looks at the crown prince and says. “He came because he knew your grandfather Lord Tywin would be here Your Grace. And Lord Tywin has made the offer for Prince Tommen to become his heir and as such it seems that Prince Tommen wishes to accept that offer.”

The crown prince looks intrigued by this. “So that’s the angle my brother is using is it? He thinks he can come here and plot treason behind my back and that I will not figure it out.”

“Your Grace?” Jon asks worried.

“My brother has come here not to accept my grandfather’s offer but to have our father name him his heir. That is why he has come. From your letters and from my own thoughts that is what I have been able to work out. Did Tommen at any point mention me whilst you travelled south?” Joffrey asks.

Jon considers his answer for a long moment before he replies. “He mentioned that he was looking forward to meeting you again. And that he hoped that you both would be able to put aside whatever differences you had had when you were in Winterfell.”

The crown prince snorts. “A likely story. He has stolen my betrothed and now he intends to remove me from the succession, from my rightful place. I will not have it truly I will not. Two can play at that game. Lancel.”

The snivelling worm that is Lancel Lannister steps forward then and says. “Yes Your Grace?”

“You are to spend time with Tommen in the sparring yard tomorrow. I want you to see how much my brother has improved with a sword. And when the time is right, you are to spar with him.” The crown prince says.

“Yes Your Grace.” Lannister replies.

“Why are you having Lancel spar with Prince Tommen Your Grace?” Jon asks.

The smile that graces Prince Joffrey’s face is terrifying then. It is animalistic. “Because Lancel is reasonably good with a sword, and my brother will feel even more confident after he beats Lancel. People make mistakes when they are over confident. And as such the boy is more likely to make boasts after the fact as well.”

Jon is not sure he entirely understands. “So you want Prince Tommen to boast about his true intentions? But what guarantee is there that such a thing will happen?”

The smile is still firmly on the crown prince’s face and it does truly worry Jon. “Because my brother is the sort of person who likes to boast about things after the fact, or perhaps even before the fact. You, yourself told me this Jon. And I do think Tommen will be more than willing to boast about something if he has just beaten you as well.”

Jon is surprised by this he was not expecting this. “You wish for me to fight your brother Your Grace?” he asks confused.

The crown prince nods. “I do. You are my man are you not Jon?”

“Of course my prince.” Jon says.

“Then you will fight Tommen. And as you are a far superior swordsman than my brother could ever hope to be, you will give him a tough round but will eventually lose. After such a victory, my brother will be more inclined to talk about things he might not otherwise speak of.” The crown prince says.

Jon catches on then. “You think after beating me Prince Tommen will be far more likely to be in a talkative mood. And after a few drinks will tell me what he plan on accomplishing here?”

“That is exactly what I hope.” Joffrey replies. “My brother is like my father in that he never knows when to stop talking or drinking. And that is something that will be beneficial to us all. You are someone he trusts, you can find out things far easier than I could.”

Jon tries to hide a smile at how bitter the prince sounds at that. “I will do my utmost Your Grace. I will find out what I need to find out.”

“Good.” The crown prince replies.

It is then that Mors Rosby the oaf speaks. “So tell us Snow, what reason did Prince Tommen give for ending his brother’s betrothal?”

Though the tone is Rosby’s Jon knows the words are Joffrey’s. He looks at Rosby and then the crown prince when he replies. “Prince Tommen is madly in love with my sister the Lady Sansa. So much so that he pressured her into ending her betrothal with you Your Grace. As far as I know Sansa did it through pressure not because she truly wanted to.” A lie, and one he hates saying, but one he has been told to say.

The crown prince’s eyes light up at that. “So the ending of this betrothal was non consenting? Very good. That gives me something to work with.”

Worry forces Jon to ask. “What are you thinking Your Grace?”

The crown prince looks at Jon and the smile on his face causes Jon to shiver internally. “I am thinking that my brother’s betrothal is null and void and that when the time comes I will have declared as such. I will marry Sansa, and that will be that. My brother will not be able to do anything about it for I will be king and he will be nothing.”

Uncertain of what makes him say the next words out of his mouth Jon runs with it. “If you were to compete in the tourney as well Your Grace, I know that would do much to endear you to Sansa.”

“What makes you say that Jon?” Joffrey asks.

Jon swallows and deciding to turn this to his advantage says. “I have spoken to Sansa, and I know she fears you are displeased or even angry with her for the breaking of the betrothal. I have tried to reassure her that you are not, but she does not believe me. She wants to be your wife, and I think that if you compete in the tourney and show her that you still care for her and want to be her husband she will feel happier.”

“It will also make it easier for me to break my brother’s betrothal as well. A very good plan Jon.” Joffrey says.

“You were already thinking of competing the Melee were you not Your Grace?” Lancel asks his voice high and reedy.

“Of course, but the melee is not the thing people pay the most attention to. No Jon is right. To make it easier for my plan to come to fruition I must compete in the jousting and win. Only then can I make it so that Sansa is all but mine.” Joffrey replies.

Jon knows something has changed. The allure that Joffrey had over him in Winterfell has gone, but there is something else. The prince continues speaking. “You will compete in the tourney as well Jon. I need as many of my own men competing so that this tourney is not awash with the fools fighting for my father’s name.”

Jon bows his head. “Of course Your Grace. I will fight for you and win glory for you.”

Joffrey smiles and says. “Good, very good. Now tell me what more do you know about my brother’s plots?”

Jon swallows, drawing up on the things he has been told to say. “Whilst we were sailing to King’s Landing, Prince Tommen spoke with Ser Gerion about a great many things, one of which was it seems was ensuring more support for him at court. Driving away those men and women who are for you and your mother and putting more of their own men and women here. People to whisper in your father’s ear about Prince Tommen.” He pauses and sees the anger on Joffrey’s face. He continues. “It also seems that this was more Ser Gerion’s idea, for the man does not like you and sees you as a threat to his own ambitions.”

The prince’s lip curls into a snarl. “And how does he plan on removing me?”

“I do not know Your Grace, but what I know is that he intends to do it soon. I think that is why he has come here. He has not come for the tourney but to begin undermining your hold on the throne.” Jon says. Blurting the words out, though knowing they are what he is supposed to say, they sound somewhat conceited.

Rage passes through Prince Joffrey’s face, but then his expression goes calm and his voice is soft when he says. “Well it seems that my uncle is not above resorting to treason for his ambitions. I will not allow such a thing to stand. Gather more information for me Jon and you shall be well rewarded. It seems my uncle wishes for there to be chaos in the realm for his own ends.”

“What will you do Your Grace?” Jon finds himself asking.

The prince merely smiles then, and is silent for a moment and then he speaks. “Why I will do what any good king would do. I will have my uncle found guilty of treason and killed. And I will ensure all his allies are killed. I will not suffer such treason in my kingdom.”

That strikes Jon as odd and he asks. “Will you not go to the King Your Grace?”

The prince laughs, a sound that sends shivers up Jon’s skin. “Oh come now Jon, you have seen my father. You have met my father. You know what his appetites are like. He will not live for long and besides he is more inclined to fuck and drink until a problem such as my uncle goes away than deal with it properly. No my father’s days are coming to an end.”

Jon shifts uncomfortably then and says. “As you say Your Grace. I am sure you know what is for the best.”

Joffrey smiles and puts his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I know you have done something most difficult Jon. I reward those who are loyal to me. And you have been very loyal to me. Name me the one thing you want the most, and when I come to the throne I shall make it yours.”

Jon feels something inside of him lurch at that. The one thing has only wanted, ever, it could be his. And yet he knows to accept that offer would be treason, and would be a betrayal of everything he stands for. He looks at the prince and says. “Thank you Your Grace. I know you are a man of your word. I will continue to be loyal for you are my king and I only wish to do what is right.”

Jon sees the crown prince smile and hears something dangerous in his voice when he replies. “That is good, very good Jon. But there is one thing you must do, one task that must perform to show that you are truly loyal.”

Jon suspects he knows what he is and still he says. “Name it Your Grace. And I will do it.”

The crown prince smiles an evil smile. “Come to the crypts with me. And then you will be my most trusted friend.”


	36. Liar Liar, Wasteland Monarchy

**10 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

Finally, after moons and moons of waiting and wanting this, Tommen had finally gotten it. A betrothal to the love of his life. Sansa got more beautiful with each passing day, it was something that Tommen found incredible, and he gladly bathed in her beauty. He would do anything for her, truly he would. She was to be his wife, and he was to be her husband, the thought of that filled him with excitement, the sort of excitement he had not felt since he had been a little boy. He loves her, he loves her smile, her hair, her eyes, her wit and sweetness. He loves everything about her. Gods he cannot believe that she is truly going to be his wife, and he her husband. It is something that he has long wanted and now that it is to become a reality he is more excited than he could ever remember being before.

One of the benefits of being Sansa’s betrothed, was that he got to spend more time with her. He got to go on walks with her and dance with her, and do the things that truly he had wanted to do since he had come to King’s Landing. Such as now, they were walking through the halls of the Red Keep, hand in hand, Durran walking beside Sansa. “So tell me my love, how do you find King’s Landing?” Tommen asks.

Sansa is silent a moment and then she replies. “Truthfully I did not truly like it before. It was such a scary place, and your mother and brother seemed to change after the incident at Darry. They were no longer kind or caring toward me, and instead they were cruel and harsh. I did not understand it, I still do not. But I am glad you are here now, and that we are betrothed.”

Tommen looks at his betrothed, and finds his breath catching once more at how beautiful she is. “Truly? Do you mean it Sansa?” he asks.

She looks up at him and smiles. “Of course I do Tom. Why would I lie about something like that?”

Tommen swallows then and trying to keep himself from sounding petty says. “When we last spoke in Winterfell, before our kiss.” He smiles at her blush. “You were so infatuated with Joffrey, that I did not know whether we would ever be the same.”

Sansa squeezes his hand and says softly. “I was a fool Tom. I was drawn into Joffrey’s charms and did not think to see the monster beneath. I have now, and I know you are the better brother. You are the kinder, sweeter and truer brother. I love you Tom. You need never doubt it.”

Tommen nods and then says. “We can leave King’s Landing after the wedding my love. We can go wherever you like. To Winterfell, to Storm’s End, to Riverrun if you so desire.”

Sansa looks at him and then asks. “Truly? I thought your grandfather wished you to come to Casterly Rock to become his heir.”

Tommen looks at his betrothed for a moment before replying. “What my grandfather wants and what he will get are two completely different things. I do not truly want to go to the Rock, it belongs to my uncle Tyrion, not to me. And if grandfather cannot accept that, then he is a fool.”

“Is that wise Tom? Surely you will want him on your side should anything come to pass?” Sansa asks.

Tommen considers this and then says. “Perhaps, but my grandfather is not a man who I trust to do what is best for the kingdom, and not simply do what is best for him.”

His betrothed is silent a moment and then replies. “Hmm, an interesting perspective Tom. But if things are going to go the way you and uncle Gerion seem to think it will go, allies will be important? And what better ally than your own grandfather?”

Tommen looks at his betrothed and replies. “Perhaps. But hopefully things will not go that way. I do not want them to go that way.”

Sansa nods and squeezes his hand. “What about Myrcella? Will she and my brother marry?”

Tommen smiles at Sansa then and leans down to whisper. “If I have anything to do with it they will be. I know they care for one another greatly, if the letters they send one another are anything to go by.”

“Letters? You’ve read Robb and Myrcella’s letters to one another?” Sansa asks.

“I might have done.” Tommen admits grinning.

“Tommen!” Sansa says swatting his arm. “That is rude. You can’t read other people’s letters. Did they not teach you that?”

Tommen laughs and pulls Sansa to his chest then keeping one arm wrapped around her middle, he leans down and purrs. “I had to make sure they were not writing inappropriate things to one another Sansa. She is my sister you know.”

He feels Sansa put a hand on his chest and sees her looking at him, her eyes heated. “What sort of things?”

Tommen nudges her hair and her ear. “Oh you know, the sort of things that they could do. That we could do.”

“Like what?” Sansa asks breathily.

Tommen feels a stirring in his breeches and whispers. “Kissing, touching. All the things that a man and a woman can do to one another. We could do that. I want us to do that. Do you want us to do that?”

“I do. Very much so. I do not know how long I can wait.” Sansa replies, her voice hitching slightly as Tommen moves his hand down her body.

“We could do something right now if you want?” he replies.

“Will we not be seen?” she asks.

“Ah but that’s part of the fun.” He says his hand moving down her stomach.

He grins as her breath hitches, and just as he is about to move down even more he hears a voice say. “What in the name of the seven are you two doing?”

Tommen pulls his hand away from Sansa’s middle and grins slightly at her soft whine of protest and looks up to see his brother, Jon and the squires looking at them all. “We were merely taking a walk is all brother.”

“Try not to ruin your betrothed brother.” Joffrey says snidely. He then looks at Sansa and says. “I apologise for my brother, my lady. If you wish I can speak with my father and have this betrothal ended now. It would do no good for you be shamed for my brother’s roguish ways.”

Tommen feels Sansa stiffen next to him and he squeezes her hand in reassurance. Her voice is strong when she says. “There will be no need for that my prince. I and Prince Tommen were merely going for a walk is all.”

His brother snarls then, and Tommen tightens his hold on Sansa, protectively, Durran moves in front of them both. There is a brief moment of silence and then Joffrey says. “Well then that is your loss. Come now Jon, we have things that need to be done.”

Tommen sees the pleading look in Jon’s eyes and he feels a moment of panic. “Where are you going?” he asks.

His brother looks at him annoyed and replies. “That is none of your business brother. What I and my squires do, that is my business not yours.”

Seizing a slim opportunity to prevent something wrong from happening Tommen says. “But Jon is not your squire brother. He is no one’s squire.”

Something like anger flashes in Joffrey’s eyes, and his voice is curt when he replies. “You are my man are you not Jon?”

Tommen looks at his friend and sees something akin to panic flash in his eyes. He groans internally at the words that come from his friend’s mouth then. “I am Your Grace, but I am not sure I want to be.”

Joffrey’s eyes narrow then, his voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean? Where has this doubt come from?”

A long silence follows that, and it is an awkward one. Eventually Jon says. “I heard some things, I heard you say things about me that made me feel uncomfortable.”

“What things did you hear Jon?” Joffrey asks his voice dangerously low.

Tommen looks at his friend then and Jon is sweating, not visibly, but Tommen knows his friend is cursing internally. Eventually Jon replies. “I do not remember, but they were things that made me wonder whether or not I wanted to be your man.”

Joffrey relaxes then. “Ah so nothing serious. I assure you Jon, I do not have any malicious intent toward you. I merely want the best for you, and the best for me. Nothing more.”

“Are the two mutually exclusive Joffrey?” Tommen asks. “Or if what Jon wants does not coincide with what you want will you discard him?”

His brother’s voice is dangerously low when he responds. “Do not talk of things you do not understand Tommen. What I am asking Jon to do is for his own good. It is something he must do to get on in the world.”

“But what is it Your Grace? You have not told me.” Jon says.

“That is because you can only know what it is when you come with me. I promise it is nothing too serious Jon. I would not harm you.” Joffrey replies, and Tommen knows his brother is struggling.

They all look at Jon then, and Tommen can see the uncertainty in his friend’s face. The tension is evident in the air, and Tommen wonders what his friend will say and do. They both know the truth, and yet Tommen fears that his friend is going to be sucked back into the darkness, and this time, he does not think there is a way out for Jon. Before he can say anything though Sansa speaks, her voice quick. “Jon, father is looking for you. I just remembered now. He wants to speak to you about something important I think.”

Tommen does not look at Sansa, he does not want to give the game away. He can tell Jon is intrigued now. “What did father want to speak to me about Sansa? Do you know?”

Tommen can feel his betrothed shift slightly as she thinks of what to say. Eventually she says. “I do not know precisely what he wanted to speak to you about, but it was something important. He said it had something to do with something you spoke about before he left for King’s Landing.”

Tommen sees his friend’s face change then, it takes on a look of anticipation. And he suspects that Lord Stark promised to tell Jon about his mother the next time they met. Jon’s voice is filled with excitement when he replies. “You are certain that he said that?”

Tommen sees Sansa thinking hard now, and when she speaks her voice sounds certain. “Yes, I am very certain he said that. He sounded determined that the two of you should speak.”

Joffrey speaks then. “What could be so important that you would not come with me Jon?”

Tommen wants to laugh at how petulant his brother sounds. Something flashes in Jon’s eyes then, but it quickly disappears. “It is something I have long wanted to know Your Grace. Something that I cannot wait for. Not anymore.”

Joffrey looks angry then. “Not even for your future king? I am disappointed Jon.”

“I am sorry my prince, but I must go. I will do what you ask of me at a later date. But now I must go and speak with my father.” Jon replies, and with that he walks away from Joffrey and walks past Tommen and Sansa.

As Jon’s footsteps disappear into the distance, Tommen looks at his brother and smirks. “You will not win brother. You will never win. For you are not our father’s son.”

“And you are?” Joffrey snarls back.

“I am.” Tommen replies.

Joffrey moves forward but before he can come too close, Durran moves forward and roars at Joffrey. Tommen laughs at the frightened look that crosses his brother’s face.

 


	37. Fallen Prince

****

**11 th Month of 298 A.C. Pentos**

**King Viserys III Targaryen**

Pentos was a life of luxury, a life of an honoured guest, and there was a part of him that did not want to leave the life, to continue and merely allow for it to progress and develop. There was another part of him that grew irate at the thought of remaining behind here in Pentos whilst the usurper sat his throne. The throne his brother had lost for the whore of Winterfell. He would not allow for that to stand, he would take his throne back and he would teach the usurper and his dogs a fine lesson. There was of course the fact that the usurper would need to lose support first before Viserys could invade. He was not mad, he knew there would be risks involved, there would games that needed to be played and allies would be needed. He suspected that Illyrio wanted him to believe all the lies that he told, and Viserys was not entirely sure why. There was some other game being played by the magister, and Viserys wanted to know what it was.

He and the magister were sat in the man’s solar discussing some issue or the other and as such Viserys did his best to listen. “My sources in Westeros report that the usurper and his hand are at loggerheads over what to do with you and your sister. It seems Stark does not want for any more hired knives to be sent out, whilst the usurper wants you found and killed.”

Viserys snorts then. “Has Stark grown a conscious then? Strange, he did not seem to mind as much when the bodies of my niece and nephew were presented before him in King’s Landing after the war was fought. I do not buy this, there is some ruse. Does the usurper know of your sources?”

The magister looked offended at the suggestion. “Of course not Your Grace. I am not such a blind fool as to use people who would give themselves away. No they are in places where the usurper would never think to look for them.”

“And what of Tywin Lannister? What is his thoughts on this whole entire matter?” Viserys asks intrigued, though there is anger boiling inside of him at the thought of the man.

The magister as if sensing his anger replies cautiously. “Tywin Lannister is more interested in denying his son his rightful inheritance. He wants his princely grandson to inherit the Rock after he is dead. By rights the Rock is the man’s son Tyrion’s. And yet for one reason or another Tywin Lannister holds a grudge against his son.”

Viserys laughs at this. “His son, this Tyrion Lannister is a dwarf is he not?” the magister nods. “Do you think he could be brought to our side?”

The magister considers for a moment before responding. “I am not sure Your Grace. From what I know of the man, he desires the Rock and will do whatever he needs to get it. But at the same time the man is strangely loyal to his family and will not betray them.”

Viserys looks at the magister a moment and then says. “A strange man then, to so willingly accept being denied his right. He must have no spine to accept that fate. Then again he is a dwarf, so perhaps he is used to being pushed around.”

A moment’s silence follows this and then Illyrio says. “There is other word from the capital my king.” Viserys looks at the man interested. “It seems that the Queen has begun setting eyes on Lord Stark as well as his bastard son. It seems there is some sort of activity that the Starks are plotting that the Queen fears.”

“Truly?” Viserys asks surprised. “I thought Stark and his brood were loyal to the usurper. Why would they plot any sort of activity against them? Are you sure of this?”

“It is known that Stark does not like the usurper’s queen or her family and therefore it would not surprise me if he was planning something. After all we know that the usurper’s own brother is planning something to remove the false queen and replace her with one of his own design.” The magister replies.

“The Tyrell girl is it not?” Viserys asks.

“That seems most likely, after all, the Tyrells have become the boy’s allies and confidants. Though there is of course dissent with these motives from within the Tyrell family itself. As well as from outside the family in the Reach. There are many who still want your family on the throne.” The magister replies.

Viserys knows this but asks anyway. “And who are these that wish for my return?”

The magister hesitates for a moment and Viserys knows then that he is lying. “Houses as old and proud as Rowan, Redwyne, Tarly and Osgrey. They all clamour for your return as do the Hightowers. They want the Baratheons gone from the throne and the rightful rulers put back in place.”

“Overtures have been made to these houses then? It is no good to simply expect them to support me unless I reach out and begin making the effort myself. Nothing good comes from simply sitting and expecting. The world does not hand you anything, you must work for it.” Viserys says sagely.

He takes some pleasure in the look of nervousness that crosses the magister’s face. “Of course Your Grace. But these things do take time, and the lords will need to consider everything every possible angle that might happen or might not happen, before they reach a decision.”

Viserys looks at the man a moment then, considering what he has said he then asks. “If they are so willing for me to come back and sit the throne, what is there to consider magister? They should ready and waiting for my word.”

The magister looks flustered then, and Viserys hides a smile. “Of course Your Grace. But there are things these Westerosi nobles like to do. They like to hover over whether or not they will commit or not before doing so. Even when the decision should be solid for them.”

Viserys looks at the man then and says. “Then there must be some way I can convince them to do what they should be doing out of a sense of duty. A marriage perhaps?”

A strange look crosses the magister’s face then and Viserys wonders what it means. But just as quickly as it came it has disappeared. “That would be wise, but of course Princess Daenerys is betrothed to Magister Rogare it would not do to break that betrothal. And you would need to think long and hard, as one house or the other might make all the difference Your Grace. It would not do to make a hasty decision.”

Viserys snorts. “Of course not. I am not my brother that I will jump at the first sign of a skirt. I have taste.”

The magister voices his agreement. “Indeed my king. Indeed. Now regarding the betrothal between your sister and Magister Rogare.”

“What about it?” Viserys asks.

“Well Princess Daenerys has flowered and has been for some time. Perhaps the time is right for her to marry the magister? It would ensure some strong support for your cause. The Rogares have the blood of old Valyria in their veins and are a powerful house with many allies and much money.” The magister says.

Viserys looks at the man trying to assess if there is something more to his words. Unable to make up his mind he merely nods and says. “That is true.” He feels something akin to regret in his stomach, the thought of selling his sister off to that man is something he does not agree with. She should have been his. He swallows and asks. “When does Rogare suggest we hold the marriage?”

The magister is silent a moment, something that makes Viserys wonder if the man is thinking of what to make up next. “In two weeks’ time Your Grace. He wants plenty time to prepare himself for this task that is to come from the wedding.”

Viserys grins at the man’s words and then asks. “And once the wedding is done, he will continue on his end of the deal? He will ensure that the wealth and armies of Lys are ready for the fight?”

The magister nods. “He will my king. He has assured me of this.”

“And what of the rest of the daughters? What have they decided to do?” Viserys asks intrigued.

The magister looks at him a moment and then says. “It seems they are stuck within their own arguments. Myr is fighting Tyrosh for the Disputed Lands once more, and so will not be looking outside of that conflict for some time. And as they have most of the more renowned sellsword companies fighting for them, we might need to look elsewhere.”

Viserys looks at the man and asks. “What are you suggesting then magister? Who else do we turn to if not sellsword companies? The lords of Westeros will not take me seriously without an army at my back and I will not go to them a beggar. Not again.”

Illyrio looks long and hard at him before replying. “It would seem that we must look toward Slaver’s Bay. The Company of the Cat, the Brave Companions the Stormcrows all of them work in and around that area. There are the Unsullied as well, some of the fiercest fighters Essos has to offer.”

Viserys looks at the man then and asks. “And where pray tell will I get the funds to pay for these fighters? I have nothing left to offer other than my sister. Unless you are telling me that my future goodbrother will be willing to pay the cost of hiring such soldiers?”

The magister smiles. “I believe you are in luck my king. Magister Rogare wants to pay for these things. Indeed I believe he sees it as a sign of his brotherhood with you. This is something we have all been waiting for, for some time. The return of the rightful line to the Iron Throne. There is nothing we will not stop at to make sure that that is achieved.”

Viserys grins then. “That is good. Very good. I would hate to have to kill you all for lying to me. I do so hate liars. Now tell me what of the Golden Company? Are they involved in the fighting in the Disputed Lands? Have they considered the offer I have made to them?”

“It would seem that the company is currently considering several contracts. It seems there is tension in Slaver’s Bay as well as in northern Essos, and it seems that the Disputed Lands are not so interesting to them anymore. Whether that will always be the case I do not know.” The magister replies.

“And what of the offer I made them?             What do your sources inside the company say about that?” Viserys probes.

“From what my sources tell me, they are taking it under consideration. There is a great risk for the company when it comes to Westeros Your Grace. You must understand that. Because of the Blackfyres, they see Westeros as a place where their armies shatter and break. It would look odd as well to your supporters in Westeros if you were to turn up with the Golden Company, the army of the Blackfyres.” The magister says.

Viserys looks at the man then and says. “Well will they give me their armies willingly? Will they do their duty to their king if I ask for it? No they will as you have said, consider and weigh up their options like curs. It has been forty years since the last Blackfyre died. There have been no more Blackfyre led invasions since then. The company is one of the best sellsword companies in the known world. I will have them and my lords will have to accept that.”

“And what will you do if they do not accept it?” the magister asks.

“I will teach them the meaning of Fire and Blood.” Viserys snarls.


	38. A Delcaration

**11 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

King’s Landing, a place he despised with each growing day. He often found himself wondering what had made him come to this place. He was no closer to finding out why Jon Arryn had been killed, and there was nothing more for him. He supposed he held out hope that he could help Robert improve. But his friend did not seem willing to change his ways, and as such Ned often found himself at loggerheads with his old friend. It was sad, truth be told, Robert was stuck in the past but could not see how his actions were affecting the present. The realm was struggling out of debt, and the royal family was being hit by it. Tommen and Sansa were happy, that was good, but Ned suspected the queen would rather not allow Myrcella marry Robb, and he suspected that when Robert did die, that would be the first thing she got her son to change. And he wanted to be gone when that happened. Of course Robert did not know any of this. And it showed.

“So tell me Ned, how grand will the tourney be?” his friend asks with childish excitement.

“It will be very grand Your Grace. No expense has been spared. And the whole realm is speaking of it. Knights and ladies from across the realm are coming to witness it. It will be one of the grandest tourneys the seven kingdoms has ever seen.” Ned says.

His friend smiles then. “Good, very good. I have always wanted to participate in a grand tourney. Harrenhal was shit. Mainly because of that dragon shit. But there will be more to watch, and more to do and more and more. It will be the grandest tourney the realm has ever seen, I know it will be. And it is all for you.”

Ned looks at his friend and says. “I am honoured Your Grace. And yet I must ask about the cost of all of this.”

“Oh bugger the cost. Baelish will find the money to pay for it somehow. Have a little fun Ned. I am not completely blind, I know you have not completely enjoyed your time here. But perhaps this tourney will change it. Your son and my son will be competing and they will win glory for our houses.” Robert says.

Ned looks at the king and asks. “I was not aware Prince Joffrey was competing Your Grace. I had thought after what happened at Winterfell, he would have chosen to stay away from them.”

Robert is serious a moment and then bursts out laughing. “As did I Ned. But I was not speaking of him. I was speaking of my true son, Tommen. The lad is determined to win this tourney so that he might crown your daughter Queen of Love and Beauty.”

Ned smiles slightly. “I think we made the right move there Your Grace, by ending the betrothal between Sansa and Prince Joffrey. She seems so much happier with Prince Tommen. I do not know how I did not see it earlier.”

His friend looks at him and grins. “I know how. Because you were too damn busy being grumpy to even bloody notice. You need to stop caring so much about everything Ned. Loosen up a little, live a little. You are the hand of the king, have some fun.”

Ned suspects he knows where this conversation is going and so says. “I will not come with you to a brothel Robert. I already dishonoured Cat once, I will not do so again.”

“You barely knew her Ned!” his friend protests. “Besides no woman wants Baelor the Befuddled in her bed. But never mind. I know you will not relent on the issue. So tell me, who do you think will win the tourney, or the jousting, my boy or yours?”

Ned considers his answer carefully before responding. “Whilst Jon has good posture and technique, I think sometimes he loses concentration too soon. Whereas Prince Tommen has something to win for, and so he will not budge an inch. You would have to be as big as Gregor Clegane to remove him I think.”

His friend smiles in pride. “Brilliant. Exactly what I was thinking. I am certain that Tommen will win. And Joffrey might be competing but I do not think he will stand a chance. The boy is no jouster and no warrior.”

Ned nods and he knows he has a question from his searching, but now does not feel like the right time to mention it. Instead he says. “I am sure Prince Joffrey will do himself and you and the Queen proud. He is a fine young man.”

Robert snorts. “Do not lie to me Ned, you never were very good at it. We both know Joffrey is hopeless. I think he is only doing this because Cersei demanded it of him. Either that or this is some ill-fated attempt to prove he is better than Tommen. He will fail of course. I do not know how such a boy could be mine. There are things about him that I do not understand. You know what he did to those kittens do you not Ned?”

Ned grimaces, he had heard the tale from Tommen when the prince was young, and it does not make for pretty telling. “I do.”

“I do not understand how or why he would do such a thing. Or even think it. It makes no sense to me. There is something deeply wrong with him, and yet I do not know what it is, or how to make it better.” His friend confides.

Ned looks at his friend and knows, he just knows that his friend is asking for reassurance. “You must have done all you could Robert.” He says placatingly. “Sometimes, it’s like Jon used to say, there are apples and then there are bad apples. There is no point trying to change the bad apples. For they will only cause you problems.”

His friend snorts bitterly. “Is that what it has come to? My sons a bad apple and a good apple. I sometimes wonder why it was the gods saw fit to make it so that Joffrey was born first. Tommen is the perfect heir. The only one worthy of sitting the throne after me. If Joffrey sits the throne, gods knows what would happen.”

Ned looks at his friend shocked. “Are you being truthful Robert?”

His friend looks at him then his eyes dismayed. “I am Ned. I know I have made many mistakes, and have done things that perhaps should never have been done. But I never wanted for a monster to come to the throne after me. The Kingdoms have suffered monsters before, I wanted things to be different. It was all supposed to be different. But then Lyanna died and it all went to shit.”

Ned looks at his friend anger blaring slightly and then asks. “What do you mean Your Grace?”

Robert takes a big swig of wine and says. “I mean that it all went to shit. It was supposed to be like a song. Lyanna was to be my queen and we would have brought the realm an age of peace. There would have been songs about us. But no, the dragonspawn had to go and take her and ruin it all. They tell me I won the rebellion, but truly I do not think I did. At the end of it all, he has her. He is with her and I am not.”

Ned looks at his friend, and his anger begins to grow. “She did die Robert, she died, and you lived. You cannot think all that happened to you afterward was bad.”

The king’s face is full of grief when he looks at Ned. “I do not. Tommen and Myrcella are the only two good things to happen to me since the war. I love them fiercely and I want them to be safe. And yet I do not think they will be when I am gone.”

“They will be adults when you are dead Robert, with families of their own. They will be able to look after themselves.” Ned says trying to reassure his friend.

The king snorts. “I do not believe that, and I do not think you do either Ned. We both know my time is limited. No doubt Cersei will try and remove me sooner rather than later, and when that happens, she will try to undo all that we have worked for. I want Tommen and Myrcella protected when I am gone. You must promise me they will be protected.”

Ned thinks about what he knows about the Queen and the Crown Prince and then looks at his friend and says. “There is one way you can protect them Your Grace.”

His friend looks at him desperately. “How? Tell me how Ned and I will do it. I will do whatever it takes.”

Ned prays that he is doing the right thing. He takes a breath and then says. “You could name Tommen your heir. Write it down and make it formal, and your word will stand. Tommen will become king upon your death and the king is the most protected people in the entire realm.”

His friend looks disappointed. “The crown is a poisoned chalice. I would rather not have my son bear its burden if one could avoid it. He deserves to have the happiness I never did.”

“He will not have it if Prince Joffrey is allowed to ascend the throne. We both know what your eldest son is like, there will be chaos in the realm should he ascend. Tommen will no doubt be seen as a threat, my family will be in danger. I do not want that. Do you?” Ned says.

“Of course not! But by the law Joffrey is my heir. As much as I dislike that, there must be some sort of standard. And gods I sound like Stannis.” Robert protests.

Ned knows he is grasping at straws but still something inside of him is making him push on with this. “The king can make the law. And in this instance I think the lords of Westeros will forgive you for breaking tradition. Naming Tommen your heir is something that would be a good decision. If you truly want the realm to be at peace, then do this Robert. Please, do this.”

His friend looks at him a long moment and then sighing says. “Very well. Give me a piece of paper and a quill, and get Selmy in here.”

Ned’s heart is thumping in his chest, as he does as his friend has asked. Once Ser Barristan is in the room and Robert has the necessary tools, he begins writing. Speaking as he does so. “I, Robert of the House Baratheon, first of my name, King of the Andals, the First men and the Rhoynar. King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord Protector of the Realm, being of sound mind and body, do hereby disinherit my eldest son Prince Joffrey of the House Baratheon, and do hereby name my second son Prince Tommen of the House Baratheon as my heir, and upon my death, it is my wish, and command that Prince Tommen succeed me onto the throne as King Tommen first of his name. I do this in the witness of two of my most trusted confidants Lord Eddard of the House Stark, hand of the King and Ser Barristan of the House Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Dated this day the twentieth of the eleventh moon in the two hundred and ninety eighth year following Aegon’s Conquest.”

There is a moment’s silence and then Ned takes the paper from Robert and affixes his signature to it, and then hands the paper to Ser Barristan who does the same. That done, the Lord Commander hands it to Robert who affixes his seal to the letter making it official. Robert looks at him and says. “You keep this one Ned, I shall have another one made at a later date. So that Cersei cannot cause us more trouble.”

“Of course Your Grace,” Ned says. “A wise decision.”

 


	39. A Plotting Queen

**11 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Cersei Lannister**

Her boys were not getting on at all. She did not know why, actually no, she knew exactly why they were not getting along. The Starks had driven a wedge between her two sons and that angered her. Tommen who was so much like his father sometimes Cersei wondered about him, spent more time with the Starks and his betrothed than he did his own family. That worried her and it annoyed her. In some regards she could respect him for refusing to become heir to Casterly Rock that was Joffrey’s right, not his. But at the same time she wondered if his hot headedness had caused him to refuse such an offer. She wondered what plots were going on in her second son’s head, and why they were manifesting themselves. She blamed her uncle Gerion and the damned northmen. She wanted them gone.

“You look stressed, sweet sister. Tell me what I can do to help you?” her brother’s voice whispers in her ear.

Cersei turns and looks at her twin, her other half and says. “Of course I am stressed. My oaf of an husband has done something completely stupid once more because Stark has insisted on it.”

Her brother merely snorted. “Stark has done many things over the course of his life, but I do not think he would have forsaken his precious honour to get Robert to do such a thing. It must have been done on your husband’s own volition.”

Cersei shakes her head. “Robert is too much of a craven to do anything this bold. Unless there was someone encouraging him.”

Her brother looks at her a moment considering what she has said and then he replies. “Then something must have changed in Stark drastically for him to do such a thing. And I cannot truly think of any reason why such a thing would occur.”

“Of course you don’t. Unless someone is coming at you with a sword, you don’t think of anything. That’s why you are in the Kingsguard. No, I think I know why Stark has had this change of heart. And it is somewhat annoying.” Cersei replies.

Her brother looks slightly hurt at her words, but nonetheless he still asks. “And what do you think that is? What change could be so drastic as to make Eddard Stark force your husband to change his will and his heir?”

Cersei is silent a moment and then she says. “He does not like Joffrey, and he has raised Tommen since the time the boy was barely a child. He knows Tommen and likes Tommen, and the boy is betrothed to his eldest daughter.”

Her brother looks at her and silence fills the room until he begins laughing. “You think Eddard Stark has become a player in the game of thrones? On the Seven Cersei, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Stark could not do the whole game if he thought about it. Even if he tried he would fail. No there must be some other reason for this change.”

Cersei looks at her brother and groans. “You do not understand it brother. Stark has no liking of Joffrey, he never has had any liking of Joffrey not since the incident with the two girls and their direwolves. Tommen is someone who acts like Robert and does what Robert might do, and that is something that Stark might well prefer to Joffrey.”

“Then Stark is a fool. Tommen is a child, little more than that. He has no brains and is merely a puppet for those who wish to gain more power. Even I can see that. Joffrey is the only one who can make up for the mess Robert has created. If what you say is true then Stark is a traitor.” Her brother replies.

Cersei looks at her brother in surprise. “You know, you sound just like father Jaime. But yes Stark is a fool to put his trust in Tommen. The boy has no head for politics and would more than likely be discarded the moment he does something stupid. But I do not understand why Robert has allowed this to come to pass. Actually no, I know why my fool of a husband allowed this, why did Selmy not speak up when the meeting and the conversation was happening? He is Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he knows the difference between right and wrong.”

Her brother is silent a moment and then he says. “Selmy is a man who only knows his duty and honour. His honour and his duty is to serve Robert, whatever Robert decides is what Selmy will do. He has no spine, he will not speak up for the truth. He did not during Aerys’ reign and he will not now.”

Cersei looks at her brother and feels herself getting aroused by the sight of her brother showing some political skill. She looks at him and says. “Then we must get Selmy removed from the Kingsguard and quickly. Things will be moving far quicker now that Robert has made this damned will of his.”

Her brother looks at her then and asks. “Have you done anything to prevent the second will from coming into fruition? The second copy rather?”

Cersei thinks for a moment and then says. “The second copy is somewhere. I do not know where exactly. But it is somewhere in his room I believe. I have not been there for many moons now. But should Pycelle come across it he knows what to do with it.”

Her brother nods. “Well the next time I am assigned to guard his room I will look for it if you might be able to think of where it is.”

Cersei considers this a moment and then says. “I think, that if there is anywhere he might keep it, it is in the draw of his table. The draw where he keeps most of those damned things he considers important.”

Her brother’s eyes widen slightly. “Do you think he has kept a copy of that letter?”

It takes her a moment to think on what her brother is referring to. “Letter? What letter?” there is a silence as she wracks her brain and then it comes to her. “Oh gods. That letter? The one where…”

“Yes, that letter.” Her brother replies.

Cersei feels panic begin to run through her. “I do not know. It is possible, very possible. He did arrange for it to happen after all. One of the few good things he has ever done.”

“If anyone, if Stark were to get his hands on that letter than we would all be dead.” Jaime replies.

“I know that brother. I am not a fool.” Cersei replies.

Her brother sighs. “I know my love, but it is something I have worried about for a long time. What if he finds it again and remembers?”

Cersei snorts. “I highly doubt that he will remember it. It happened so very long ago, and I doubt he remembers exactly where he sent it. Stark on the other hand, he might begin looking if he has not already.”

“Do you think he has? What do you think might have made him go looking?” her brother asks.

Cersei considers a moment and then says. “Varys. The eunuch has some sort of ulterior motive I believe. I have always thought he was too good to be true. He is planning something. Something that makes me think that he wants to create some sort of chaos, some sort of betrayal he is planning.”

“Should we not just remove the eunuch then? The man has done nothing to suggest that he has earned his continued place here. He has not given the results he promised. The results that have taken some ten and six years to come to fruition.” Jaime replies.

“The Targaryens have never been found in the places the eunuch has said they were supposed to be in that is true. It could be simple coincidence, but I am not one to believe in such things. Perhaps the time has come to remove him from the playing field.” Cersei muses.

“I think that would be for the best, after all Varys is someone whom we all know cannot be trusted. He knows too much, he knows about us, I am certain about it.” her brother says.

“Killing him off for that reason alone will cause suspicion. There are other ways we can work on removing him. There are other rivalries he has that we can use.” Cersei says aloud.

“You mean to use his rivalry with Baelish?” her brother asks. “But I thought Baelish was someone we could use. He did after all tell us about Stark and the dagger.”

“And that is one reason why he is disposable. He has served a purpose. But we also know that he has been swindling from the coffers for some time. If he were not such a useful tool to have, I would have had him killed long ago. And yet he has protection, a lot of protection. Varys is the only tool that can bring him out.” Cersei responds.

Jaime looks at her and asks. “What do you mean?”

“Varys and Baelish might think their games go unnoticed but I notice, I notice everything. They are enemies and allies, and that is something I shall use. We must put the bait out in front of them. Something for them to snatch at. Something that will make them reveal their hands before things come too close to a head.” Cersei says.

“What will this thing be?” her brother asks.

Cersei considers for a moment. “The tourney of the hand. The event will not be happening, at least not in the form everyone thinks it will. But we will lead them both to believe that we need their help. In order to gain advantage over us and each other they will make plans and moves to go up the ladder. That will make them weak and exposed.”

She can tell her brother does not fully understand what she means, but thankfully he does not ask her to elaborate instead he merely asks. “And once this is done, will the tourney go ahead? And what of Robert?”

“Oh the tourney will most definitely go ahead. But we shall be lacking a certain direwolf and my husband, well he might as well be indisposed during the tourney. Or he will be, by its end.” Cersei says smugly.

Her brother looks at her in confusion. “What do you mean by that? And what will become of the Stark girls?”

“I mean that with the way my husband lives no one would be surprised if he were to die of some alcohol induced accident during the tourney or some such. He will not be alive for too long following the tourney in any case.” She replies.

“And the Stark girls? What will become of them?” her brother asks.

Cersei can see the concern in her brother’s face and cups his cheek and says. “I know you are worried about what will happen to the two innocents, and I promise you they shall not be harmed. So long as they co-operate they will be treated fairly and justly.”

“And what of Myrcella’s betrothal with the Stark heir?” her brother asks.

Cersei snorts. “That will not go through. I will not allow my daughter to marry a savage. Joffrey quite agrees with me as well.”

“What will stop her from going with the Starks anyway? You know what she is like.” Her brother replies.

“She will do her duty to her family.” Cersei says. “She is not so much of a fool as to give up all she has for some stupid boy in the north.”

Something passes through her brother’s eyes and she does not quite know what it is. But just as quickly as it comes it passes leaving her concerned and somewhat confused. Before either of them can speak though there is a knock on the door. Cersei waits a moment and then calls for the person to come in. Jaime has moved to the window by that point, and is looking out when she turns and sees Pycelle standing there. “It has been done Your Grace.”

“He will not wake?” she asks.

“Not for a while at least.” The man replies.

“Good now go and prepare yourself for what is to come.” Cersei says. Pycelle bows and leaves, and once he is gone Cersei turns to Jaime and says. “That includes you Jaime, we shall have a new king soon.”


	40. The Evil That Men Do

**11 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

The king was dead, or was close enough to death for Ned to make that claim. His friend’s face was bloated heavy from drink and from something else, something that Pycelle had not been able to determine, though Ned was not entirely confident in the man’s motives. His friend looked sick, sicker than he had ever looked before, and Ned felt a deep sense of guilt and anger at this. Robert had brought this on himself, with his whoring and drinking ever since Lyanna had died, he had let himself go, and it saddened him as well. His friend had lost that stubborn will and now seemed content to lie down and die.

“You could at least smile Ned. You look grimmer than I do, and I am the one dying.” The king says.

Ned looks at his friend and says. “It is a solemn occasion Your Grace. You are unwell, but I do not think death comes for you.”

The king laughs and spit comes dribbling down his jaw. “Oh come now Ned, be reasonable, you and I both know that I shall not survive this night. There is not more for any of these dithering fools to do. I will die and then perhaps I will see Lya.”

Ned looks at his friend and tries one last attempt. “I thought you wanted to see our children married Your Grace? You cannot do that from beyond the grave.”

The king snorts. “Ach, would that I could, but I fear my body does not wish to remain here for much longer. And I would rather not dwell on those things that are beyond my reach now.” Robert looks at Prince Tommen and some look passes between father and son for Tommen nods and walks out of the room for a moment and then the king turns to him. “You know I always knew I would be the first one to die out of the two of us. Really I thought I’d die before Elbert and Denys as well. But the mad king saw to them.” his friend takes a heavy breath then and continues. “We were so strong in the Vale Ned, so very strong and now it seems everything is falling apart because of Jon’s death. I am sorry I could not be the man that I was.”

“You did the best you could Your Grace. It was a hard task that you had after the rebellion, to rebuild the kingdom as you did, that took some skill. And yes Jon might have done most of the physical work, but you held it all together with your mere presence.” Ned responds.

His friend laughs then and more spittle dribbles down his face. “Ach, you always were shit at lying Ned. Tell me true, how bad of a king have I been? Am as bad as Aerys? Or as bad as that shit Rhaegar would have been?”

Ned can see the fear in his friend’s eyes as he waits for his response and so he chooses his words carefully before responding. “You were better than Aerys, and I do not know about Rhaegar, but you fought for a true cause throughout your reign my king, and that is all that matters.”

Robert’s eyes are filled with silent gratitude as he looks at Ned and Ned sighs internally, then the king asks a question Ned has been dreading for a long time. “Would Lya have been proud of me Ned? Would she have been proud of the man I became? Or would she have rather have stayed with the silver rapist who took her? I know she did not love me before, but surely she said something to you before this all went wrong?”

Ned is silent for a long, long time and then he says. “She cared for you Robert that is all I know. When I found her she was far too broken to speak about much else but asking for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?” his friend asks his tone confused. “Why would she want forgiveness? She did nothing wrong except from fall under the spell of a man who should have known better. I cannot blame her for that, and I do not blame you for whatever it is you have carried all these years.”

Ned looks at his friend surprised and the king chuckles, blood falling from his mouth. “Oh come now Ned, surely you have not forgotten how I knew of you and Ashara Dayne all those years ago even though Brandon did what he did? I know you took something from Lyanna and that you protected it all those years, and I do not begrudge you that. You did what you thought was right, and even I would have done the same. For there was something deeply wrong with me, there has always been something wrong with me since I took the throne.”

Ned feels his heart hammering in his chest. “Robert I….”

“Oh save it Ned, have I not just said that you do not need to explain anything to me? I understand why you did what you did and I do not begrudge it you. I was and have not been a good man, not the man I wanted my sons to respect and admire. This crown, it is a poisoned chalice. Make sure my son does not get corrupted by it. Make sure he is happy and knows his duty. I forgot my duty and look where that has gotten me. Things will not be easy and you might well hate me for this, but you must stay here Ned, you must stay and fight for my son, for Cersei will never allow this to stand. She will fight every inch to see the bastard on the throne and we both know that Joffrey will never rest until the world has burned down to the ground.”

Ned looks at his friend, a promise he made long ago echoing in his head, he looks at his friend who is silently pleading with him and who is fading with every passing moment and he does not hesitate to respond. “I will, I promise Your Grace.”

There is relief in his friend’s eyes then. “Good, you may go, go and plan as you will, send Tommen in. Let me speak with my son before I die.”

Ned nods and bows his head briefly before turning and leaving. He nods to the Prince and says. “The king will see you now my prince.” The boy he considers a son nods and walks into the room his hulking frame dwarfing Ned. Ned continues walking his mind filled with many thoughts, not all of them pleasant when a voice halts his progress.

“Lord Stark! Lord Stark, a moment please.” Ned turns to see Lord Renly calling him.

Ned sighs, he does not have time to speak to the man but finds himself stopping and asking. “What is it Lord Renly? I do not have time to dawdle.”

“I know my lord, and I appreciate that. What I have come to speak to you about I hope will help ease your burden.” The man says. He pauses a moment and then continues. “We both know for all intents and purposes my brother is dead. There is no point trying to deny it my lord, whatever the Queen did to him he is dying because of it. Soon enough Cersei will rally her forces and work to imprison you.”

Ned looks at the man and says rather impatiently. “I know all this, what is your purpose in coming here and telling me things I already know?”

“My purpose is that I am trying to convince you that supporting my nephews, either one of them is a big mistake.” The Lord of Storm’s End says.

Ned quirks an eyebrow at the man and asks. “What makes you say that my lord? Prince Tommen is King Robert’s true heir as the king himself named him and signed a will confirming it which I have in my possession here.” Ned has had his suspicions about the youngest Baratheon brother for some time and as such does not tell him where exactly in the Red Keep he has the will but he knows it is safe. “To suggest otherwise is tantamount to treason, and if it is the Lannisters you are worried about I would dispel such worries from your mind, they will not be a threat not when they are so divided.”

The Lord of Storm’s End looks at him then as if he was born yesterday. “And yet Lannister influence will be present in both of my brother’s sons. Joffrey will have his mother whispering in his ear about this right and that right, whereas Tommen will have that trickster Gerion and his snide uncle the imp whispering in his ear. Pray tell me where the chance for you to come and impose your authority will be?”

Ned looks at the man and sighs. “Prince Tommen is to marry my daughter, we shall be kin through marriage. My authority comes from whatever Prince Tommen decides to do. There is nothing more pressing than that. What are you trying to plan Renly?”

The man looks at him and then stands tall. “I am the only true Baratheon claimant left now that Robert is dead. I have the support of the Stormlords and the Reach, I can put men into your possession and we can seize the capital. You will get justice for Jon Arryn as well as for the attempt on your son’s life. Things that neither Joffrey nor Tommen will give you.”

Ned looks at the man bemused. “There is still Stannis, he is older than you and is an experienced battle commander. It will come to war this I know, and yet you know nothing of war beyond the fake tourneys you compete in.”

The man does not look offended merely frustrated. “Stannis is no true Baratheon. You know of what has been coming through from Dragonstone Lord Stark. My brother has fallen sway to a red woman from Asshai, there is no chance for him to gather support, he has abandoned the duty he holds so dear. There is no reason expecting him to fight for the throne lest the woman tells him to. No, I am your only hope.”

Ned sighs and says. “I am afraid I must refuse this offer, it is misguided and ill judged. Tommen is my king and you, you are his uncle and his vassal you must do him homage.”

The man looks bemused at this. “Like you and my brother did homage to the mad king? I think not. If you are willing to allow the Lannisters more hegemony over the kingdoms then so be it. I will meet you on the battlefield.” The man turns and walks away then, leaving Ned reeling.

He stands where he is for a few moments his head reeling trying to make sense of what has just happened. Robert’s youngest brother is rebelling, and Ned is still hand, he could have the man arrested and yet there is another more pressing matter. Cersei. She will be sure to be acting now, and he knows he does not have the complete strength to defend the prince and his family. He needs to make his mind up now. Before he can reach a decision though he feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see Prince Tommen standing there a hulking mass looking grief stricken, Sansa by his side. Ned looks at both children and asks. “Is he?”

“Aye, my father is dead.” Prince Tommen says his voice stricken. Ned sees Sansa take her betrothed’s hand.

Ned bows his head. “He was a good man… Your Grace.” He pauses a moment and then says. “We must act quickly Your Grace, your mother will be wasting no time in securing the capital for your brother.”

Ser Barristan who came with the Prince, alongside Ser Arys Oakheart, speaks then. “It would appear she already has my lord.”

Ned looks from the knight to the men coming toward them, their swords clinking, the Kingslayer leading the group. Ned draws his sword and says. “What do you want?”

The Kingslayer his eyes gleaming says. “I have come with an arrest warrant for you and for your family from the King.”

“I signed no such warrant.” King Tommen says.

“You are not the king boy,” the Kingslayer says. “Your brother, King Joffrey is.”

“Joffrey is no king, by word of his grace King Robert.” Ned says. “King Tommen was named King Robert’s heir and with the king’s death the new king stands before you.”

The Kingslayer smirks. “A lie, and one you will pay for.” The man draws his sword.

Not turning around Ned says. “Your Grace, retreat back to your rooms, and gather your things. I will see of this threat.”

“But..” the king begins.

“Your Grace please, do as Lord Stark says, we shall hold them off.” Ser Barristan says.

Ned can hear a sense of hesitation in his king’s person before the echoing of feet turning and dashing backward is heard. Ned looks at the Kingslayer and his men and says. “You will not get to them.”

“Then you and the old man shall die.” the Kingslayer says.

Ned snorts. “I was born a solider of war, I learned how to die a long time ago Kingslayer. The question is did you?” with that the talking stops and their swords begin the dance of steel that will determine the fate of Westeros.


	41. Fleeing

**11 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

His father was dead, the man he had looked up to since he was a little boy was gone, dead, killed, poisoned whatever it was you wanted to call it, his father was dead and he was king. But that was not what was in his thoughts right now as he held Sansa’s hand and led her back to their rooms, rooms which he knew technically were his but they were sharing for just now. His father before his death had revealed something, a long held secret that at once gave Tommen hope but at the same time worried him deeply. This was a secret that his father had told him that his mother knew about but would never bring up for fear of draining her power. It was something that Tommen did not know what to make of, it filled him with a sense of fear and hope, and all these other emotions, and he did not know what to name them.

Durran led the way back to his rooms, Sansa’s hand firmly clasped in his, they walked, or ran toward his rooms. He knew what would come soon enough, Lord Eddard and Ser Barristan were fighting his uncle and the men who had come with him, he could not believe his mother, well truth be told it was more than likely Joffrey who had ordered this arrest, and now it was coming down to what Tommen had often thought it would come down to. War, that was the only thing that was possible right now, anything else would be unacceptable, and his heart was heavy because of that, it was not what he wanted, but it was what would happen. He looked and Sansa and swore to himself that he would keep her safe no matter the cost, there was nothing to more to it.

They came to his rooms and Tommen breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Jon and Ghost at the door. His friend looked worried when he saw the state they were all in. “What happened?”

“My father is dead.” Tommen says simply.

His friend looks at him in shock for a moment and then bows his head and says. “I am sorry for your loss Your Grace. But we could not say that this was not coming.”

Tommen nods. “Aye. Did you find out what needed to be found out?”

“Aye. Joffrey and your mother had a definite hand in the murder of the King. The man even admitted as such to me before he tried once more to lead me down to the catacombs.” Jon says.

“The Queen and Prince Joffrey poisoned the king?” Sansa exclaims.

Tommen looks at her and nods. “Aye it seems my brother and mother are more treacherous than we all thought.”

“Then surely this should be brought before the court, so that they can be had judgement passed on.” His betrothed says.

Tommen looks at her a moment and says. “I wish it were that easy Sansa my love, truly I do. But my mother controls more than half the court and the rest know that with my father’s death, you and your family are in grave danger of being killed. That is something I will not allow to happen. I would rather kill myself than allow that.”

His betrothed looks worried then and says softly. “Don’t do that my love, please do not do that.”

He looks at her tenderly then and he so wishes he could kiss her then but he knows they do not have the time, so instead he merely squeezes her hand and says. “We must hurry, we do not have enough time. Soon enough there will be more men coming toward us. Ser Arys guard the door.”

They enter the rooms and Tommen takes a deep breath, he knows that he will never set foot in this room again, until he has taken the throne, he is silent a moment and then he begins pulling things into a trunk, the first things he can find. Sansa and Jon aid him, he knows Jon has already packed his things has had his things for the past two days, Tommen had been meaning to but with everything going on in the Red Keep there had not been enough time. If Jon finds it strange that his sister clothes are mixed in with his prince’s he does not comment, and for that Tommen is grateful. A great many things are thrown into his trunk and then once that trunk is packed, he begins scanning the room, Durran aiding him as well. His heart is hammering in his chest, his blood is pumping furiously, and he knows, he just knows something might go wrong.

“What about Arya? She was with her dancing master I think. We should get her.” His betrothed says.

Tommen looks at Jon a moment and when his friend nods he turns and says. “Uncle Gerion would have sorted that out. He and the dancing master it seems know each other from sometime before. I do not know how exactly, but they do.”

“What of Lord Tyrion? He did not confirm whether or not he was coming with us or staying behind.” Jon asks.

Tommen sighs then. “I do not think he will be coming with us Jon. There is more to what he is doing here than simply what he has told us. He might not well admit it, but I believe that there is a greater purpose to his dealings here. Regardless he will be our eyes and ears here.”

They all look on as Durran and Ghost pace around, nervously as if they are agitated, and truth be told, Tommen does not blame them, his heart is still hammering furiously inside his chest. Sansa speaks then. “Where are father and Ser Barristan? Do you think they will be alright?”

Tommen pulls her close to him then and kisses her head and whispers. “They will be fine, they are two of the best swordsmen in the realm my uncle might be good, but he is not as good as they combined together.”

Sansa looks up at him and smiles lovingly, and Tommen feels his heart sore at the sight, he knows he will never get tired of that. Before she can reply, there is a knock on the door and they all hear Ser Arys call out. “The Laughing Lion is here Your Grace.”

Tommen kisses Sansa’s head and calls out. “Let me in Ser.”

The door opens and his uncle enters with Arya in tow, Tommen feels Sansa let out a sigh of relief at Arya bounding toward them, she stops in front of Jon. Tommen looks at his uncle and asks. “What happened, you are much earlier than I thought you would be.”

“Meryn Trant was not much of a challenge, nor were any of those other sots who wore the white cloak. They are lying dead now, and so here we are.” His uncle replies.

“And what of the dancing master?” Tommen asks looking at Arya knowingly.

His uncle smiles then and says. “He has gone through the necessary channels and will be joining us when the time comes.”

Tommen nods and then says. “You know of what is occurring, or has already happened in these halls.”

His uncle nods. “Aye, I know of what is happening out there. Ser Jaime, is not going to last long, for he has not gotten the necessary juices that he might have required to succeed.”

Tommen does not want to know what his uncle means by this and so instead chooses to ask another thing that has been weighing on his mind as of late. “Is there a ship ready and waiting for us? You know my mother and brother, they will never accept that my father’s word is law. They will send men after us soon enough, once they realise that we did not come meekly. When is the ship going to be ready if it is not?”

His uncle merely smiles and says. “Aye, the ship is ready. Very much so, it has been for a few days now, we are only waiting for your call Your Grace.”

Tommen nods and then says. “Very well then, we are ready to go. Where are your things Jon?”

Jon taps the small bag around his shoulders. “Whatever I could find was put into here Your Grace. I am ready to go whenever you are.”

Tommen nods and then says. “Very well, let us go onward then and toward our safety.”

“What of my father and Ser Barristan?” Arya asks.

Tommen looks at his future goodsister and says. “They will come when they are done. If they do not then we shall need to move forward without them.”

Before Arya can go and protest, Sansa speaks. “Enough Arya, we must move. Father knows this and shall be coming to join us when he is done.”

Arya huffs but is silent, Tommen is grateful for that, for he does not think he could deal with her arguing right now, his heart has not stopped hammering in his chest throughout this whole conversation, and so when he stands, his head spins slightly and he needs to take Sansa’s arm to balance himself. Once he is steady he moves his head from side to side and then moves to where his chest is and with Jon’s aid lifts it, he looks at his uncle and says. “Lead the way Ser.”

His uncle bows and says. “Of course Your Grace.” With that he turns and walks out of the room, leading them through the hallways and dark passageways, Tommen does not want to know how his uncle knows about them, and his fear of being found is somewhat reduced by the presence of Durran and Ghost, stalking their way beside his group. The chest is heavy, but it is a good weight, it gives him something to focus on, that and Sansa’s calming presence by his side do him wonders.  Ser Arys is behind them, Tommen knows, can hear his footfalls soft and sometimes heavy, reassuring in the darkness. When they come out of a tunnel into the docks his uncle turns and with a grin on his face says. “The docks of King’s Landing Your Grace, my lord and ladies. Our ship is just down here.” He points down the harbour to where a big black ship is docked.

They walk toward the ship, the chest weighing heavily in his arms, and just as it comes into sight, Tommen hears shouts going up. He stops and looks round and feels his heart sink as he sees gold cloaks running toward them, he looks at his uncle and says. “We need to get going.”

His uncle nods and so they quicken their pace, running now, not walking. Pacing through toward the ship, when they get to the plank leading onto the ship, Tommen feels his head spin and his hand comes off the chest, making it drop slightly, Ser Arys picks it up and carries it on whilst Sansa aids him onto the ship. He hears Durran growl and sees through his lions eyes the darkness coming toward them, he feels the fear and the anger in his lion’s being, for he feels it as well. He looks at them all and says. “We need to wait, Lord Stark is coming I know he is.”

“How do you know for sure Your Grace?” he hears his uncle ask.

He looks at Sansa and then at Jon, and then says. “Look there into the distance, Stark and Ser Barristan are coming, we need to wait for just a few more moments.”

Sure enough the struggle that the gold cloaks have gotten themselves embroiled in has seen their numbers thinning as a battered Lord Stark and Ser Barristan emerge, staggering onto the plan and then onto the ship. They are bleeding and are wounded in several places, but otherwise seem content and thrilled. Tommen grins as his betrothed and her sister throw themselves into their father’s tired arms. He looks at his goodfather. “Your uncle is on his death bed Your Grace.” Tommen merely nods.


	42. An Angry Lioness

**11 th Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Cersei Lannister**

She still could not believe it, finally, after so long her husband was dead. She was freed from the chains her father had placed her in all those years ago when he had seen her married off to that fat oaf. Robert, had not been an oaf then, no he had been every maiden’s fantasy, strong and muscular the hero from the songs, and then their wedding night had come and he had ruined it all. Cersei was not sorry he was dead, as far as she was concerned they were all better off without him there, without him constantly trying to drag her sons down to his level with his damned obsession. It was better this way, and she was celebrating accordingly.

There was just one thing that was ruining her happiness. The Starks had escaped, Eddard Stark it seemed had a darker side to him, a side that she did not know he had possessed. He had fought instead of meekly coming with Jaime, like she thought he would. Her brother, her twin, her other half was now lying in a sick bed fighting death, and that angered her. The damned Starks aided by her foolish uncle had escaped from her clutches, and were now no doubt sailing off to Winterfell to plot all manners of treason. They had taken her son with them, Tommen who had been corrupted by the Starks, turned into a monster that would need to be killed. Her heart was heavy with the thought, but she knew that it would have to happen. She could not allow anything to threaten Joffrey, nothing could threaten her son.

Joffrey was sat on the gilded throne of the small council chamber, looking regal in Lannister crimson and a golden crown. Her son looked every inch a king, and she felt pride bloom inside of her as she looked at him. His tone was crisp when he spoke. “There has been much treachery as of late. My own brother has gone and sided with the rebels, and that is something I cannot forgive. There has been must discord within the small council, my uncles have fled like the cowards they are, and I would not have them try to return now. There are two positions that must be filled. Mother you have the list do you not?”

Cersei nods and unfurls the piece of parchment that she had been holding for some time. She places the parchment on the table and then reads. “For the position of master of laws, the best two candidates are Ser Kevan Lannister, our kinsman and Ser Justin Staunton Knight of Rook’s Rest. Both are known commanders and know their way around the legal codes of our kingdom. Staunton has the benefit of being close towards the capital, whilst Ser Kevan is of course our uncle.”

Her son considers this for a moment and then says. “Ser Kevan shall be coming with grandfather’s army, therefore he will take some time to arrive here. Better to name Ser Justin for the time being and then when grandfather arrives we can sort this out properly. Pycelle send the raven out today, I want Staunton here before the week’s end.”

“Of course Your Grace.” The old cobbled maester says bowing his head respectively.

Her son then says. “What of the position of master of ships? Lord Stannis might be a craven for fleeing but he had experience. Tommen will no doubt try to win over someone with the ships big enough to trouble the capital. Has there been any word from Dragonstone?”

The eunuch speaks then. “It seems, Lord Stannis has been quiet as of late. Not much has come forward from his island fortress, apart from the presence of a red priestess, who calls herself Melisandre. It seems that Lord Stannis has become infatuated with her, and she is never seen far from his side.”

“So it seems the Lord of Dragonstone does actually have a cock then. A shame that he does not know how to use it properly.” Lord Baelish quips.

Cersei sees her son’s face twitch, before he speaks. “This red woman, how much do you know of her?”

The eunuch is silent a moment and then he says. “Not all that much truth be told Your Grace, only that she came to Dragonstone around a year ago initially to serve the Lady Selyse and since then has become a chief advisor to Lord Stannis. That is all.”

“I am sure it is of no consequence, there is no magic in this world anymore, if it did even exist in the first place my king.” Cersei says looking at her son.

Her son looks at her a moment before nodding. “Of course. Magic is something that only fools believe in. fools and children, and we cannot afford such a thing anymore. What I want to know is how did the Starks and my errant brother get away from us? We had them trapped and surrounded and they escaped, how?”

There is a lot of uncomfortable shifting in chairs at this and as the silence stretches on Cersei feels her patience wear. “Your king has asked a question, it is only fit that you give a response.”

The silence continues on for another moment before Lord Baelish speaks. “Forgive me my king, my queen. But it would seem that Ser Gerion knew of the coming of the men that Ser Jaime had with him and was able to alert Lord Stark to their coming beforehand. I am not sure how, but I have spoken with Lord Janos and an enquiry is being held into the matter.”

“Gerion, the whoreson continues to plague us like a fly. It seems he shall have to be dealt with a lot quicker than anticipated. What has become of my brother?” Cersei asks.

At this Grand Maester Pycelle speaks. “Lord Tyrion has been confined to the quarters you assigned him upon his arrival here Your Grace. He has not left them nor been permitted to leave them on your orders. He sits there rotting away, frustrated. Soon enough he will be ready to speak.”

Cersei nods content with this. “Good keep him there for the time being. When he begins cracking that is when you bring him before the king, not before then.” Pycelle nods and then Cersei looks at her son and says. “There is another issue that must needs be sorted my king, the fighting upon your father’s death left us without a Lord Commander and two other Kingsguard. Something must be done to sort that out.”

Her son looks at her, a tinge of annoyance showing on his face, “Very well, tell me who we lost.”

Cersei looks down at the list and says. “The traitor Barristan Selmy went with your brother. And Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount were killed trying to bring the younger Stark girl into our possession.”

There is a moment of silence as this news is digested by everyone, and then her son says. “If Trant and Blount were killed by a man wielding a wooden sword then they clearly were never good enough for the Kingsguard, and the fact they were allowed into the Kingsguard shows just how pathetic it had become. No, I want the hound in the Kingsguard.”

“But Your Grace, Master Sandor is not a knight, the men of the Kingsguard have always been knights.” Pycelle protests.

Cersei feels her teeth grit, her son though merely says. “That was in the days of the dragons. The dragons are all dead, this is a new age. Sandor Clegane is worth three men, he is in the Kingsguard. My uncle when he is done pretending to die shall be named Lord Commander, and now there are only two places left. Perhaps one should go to Gregor Clegane? Now wouldn’t that be brilliant, the dog and the mountain fighting together. It would be a sight for the ages.” Her son pauses a moment and then says. “Of course I do not want fighting within my Kingsguard so that is out. There will be men here willing to fight for a place on the Kingsguard, a tourney shall be held to sort this out.”

“Is that wise Your Grace? War will no doubt break out soon enough, and would it not be wiser to keep the coffers filled for the time being?” Varys asks.

Cersei sees her son’s eyes flash. “It is wise for it will give us more money with which to fund war, and it will ensure that the fools are out there fighting whilst not waiting the time away. Lord Baelish see it done.” The master of coin nods his head in agreement. Her son then turns to look at her and says. “Has there been anything on Myrcella mother?”

Cersei feels her heart seize at the mention of her daughter’s name. During the chaos Myrcella was safe, or she was supposed to be at least, and yet now she was gone, gone with the wind. There was only one place where she could be, and yet Cersei did not know how she could be there. “There has not my king, not a single word. Everyone who has been questioned reaffirms the story that came to us at first.”

Her son looks at her disbelievingly. “How is it possible she escaped with that toe rag when he had to fight two of the Kingsguard and a host of red cloaks? Is there some sort of trickery involved here? I want more search parties looking for her, and I want a formal announcement stating her betrothal to Robb Stark is at an end. Any who try to aid her or the Starks will be named traitors their lands forfeit to the crown, and their lives at an end.”

Cersei nods in approval. “A wise move my king, for the traitors shall try and rally their allies as quickly as they can. And yet if they are not seen as being a viable option, many will seek to exact heavy tolls from them.”

Her son merely glances at her before turning to look at Lord Baelish. “You have informants in the Vale do you not? You have the ear of Lady Arryn do you not my lord?”

“I do my king. How might I be of service?” Lord Baelish asks his voice silky smooth.

Cersei looks at her son, a look of warning in her eyes, they need to tread carefully here. Her son disregards her though and says. “Write to Lady Lysa and tell her to rally her banners, if she is truly loyal to the throne and she claims she will fight for her king. If she does this then she will get all the rewards she has so long desired.”

The master of coin nods. “I shall do so my king. A wise move, the Vale will be a pressing ally in the time to come.”

Cersei sees her son nod. And being unable to hold the question back any longer she asks. “What of the bastard my king? Does he serve any purpose to you any longer? The fact that he went with Tommen clearly shows that he is playing some sort of game.”

Her son looks at her with a gaze that reminds her of her own father, something that sends shivers down her. “Whatever Jon Snow did he did on my orders. He is working for me and has sworn himself to my service. He shall be our ears and eyes in Tommen’s camp. Whatever movement my traitor brother plans, Jon shall report it to me. And I know he will be loyal, for I hold the one thing he wants above all else in this world.”

“How do you know that Tommen has not already promised him the same thing, and that the bastard will not stay with your brother because of it?” Cersei asks her son.

Her son grins, and at that moment she sees Jaime in him, and her heart aches. “Because I am the one who has been crowned and I am the one who can give him whatever he desires, for I sit the throne. My brother does not, and he never will.”


	43. An Uneasy Man

****

**11 th Month of 298 A.C. Laughing Lion**

**Jon Snow**

He did not like the way the ship moved, the Laughing Lion, which was Ser Gerion’s ship shook and swayed on the waves and Jon felt as if he was going to be sick. He knew that his father and his sister Sansa felt the same, they were not meant for the sea it seemed. And yet the others were fine. The ship itself was marvellous, in the way that Ser Gerion made Lannister grandeur not seem completely preposterous, that was something Jon had often wondered about, how the man could be so unpompous and yet still be a Lannister. It was a question Jon had pondered many times as he had served Prince-he supposed King now- Joffrey, the man was every ounce of pomposity that his uncle and brother lacked, and Jon often wondered what he and others had seen in the boy.

Jon took the piece of parchment out from his breeches, and did as he so often had done during the journey when it was just him and Ghost. He looked at it, and his memories took him back to the day he was given it….

_King Robert is dying, the whole court knows this, some whisper that he has been killed by his own wife, others by his brother, Lord Renly who has disappeared or seemingly done so. Jon does not know what the truth is, but from his knowledge of the King, if he truly has died from the poisoning of his insides due to excessive drinking it is not a surprise. The king truly was a man who gorged on his appetites. Not like his eldest son. Prince Joffrey looks regal, dressed in crimson red, the Lannister colours, Jon has often wondered why the crown prince dresses as such, it does make him a finer looking king than Tommen perhaps that is a good thing he does not know. When the crown prince looks at him, Jon stops his thoughts. “What is it that bothers you Jon? I have never seen you look so perplexed.” The crown prince asks._

_Jon looks at the man and says. “I do not know Your Grace. There is something in the air today, it seems to be making me nervous. Though there is no reason to be nervous for you shall of course ascend your throne by the end of today.” Jon knows the crown prince has been waiting for this day for a long time, has heard it in his conversations both with the crown prince and with his fellow squires._

_The crown prince merely smiles. “I thought so as well. My father is a man who drank too much and fucked too many women. It is no surprise to me that he is ailing now. When the time comes, I shall remove those who had a hand in his lifestyle and ensure that the court is purer.”_

_Jon looks at the king and sees that he means it, he knows the crown prince has often found the court too stifling, too filled with idiots, and yet he endears himself to them and plays their games. It is something he has never been able to understand. “Of course you will Your Grace. And the realm shall stand behind you, for you are the one true king.”_

_Jon notes the satisfaction in the crown prince’s eyes at this, and hears it in his voice when he says. “Of course. My father’s will might be the word of the king, but when he is gone, I am the king and I make the laws. My brother will have a place here if he so desires to listen to good sense. As will you Jon, for I reward those who are loyal to me.”_

_Jon wants to tell the prince that he will never be his man, that he is already Tommen’s and will always be Tommen’s, and yet something stops him from doing so. He does not know what it is, but there is a bit of the charm of the crown prince that makes him not say the things he wants to say, and instead think the things he does not want to. “I am honoured Your Grace, and I am sure Prince Tommen will be as well. For brothers are always stronger together than apart.”_

_The crown prince looks at him then, his eyes glinting in the light streaming through the curtains. “Tell me Jon, do you truly believe that is the case for all brothers? From what you have told me about yours, it seems he does not truly appreciate all you have done for him. It seems he has always lorded it over you, and that he is more southern than is good for the north.”_

_Jon can feel the biting remark on his tongue, but the overwhelming feeling he has inside of him right now, is one of agreement. “You are right Your Grace, as you always are. Robb is someone who is blinded by his mother and the nonsense that the Tullys believe in. He will damn the north to Tully influence and our house will be cast down to the ruin because of it.” As he speaks, Jon is surprised to find that he actually means what he says, and realises that the words he is speaking, are thoughts he has had for a long time. Robb will try and do right, and in trying to do so will end up breaking everything._

_It seems the crown prince knows this for he asks. “And you believe you will not do such a thing, despite growing up in the same household? Do you believe you will make a finer Lord Stark than your brother would?”_

_Jon is horrified by the fact that he does not even need to think about his answer, before he replies. “I would. I know I would. I am more northern than my siblings ever could be.”_

_Something malicious glints in the prince’s eyes then, but before he can respond there is a knock on the door. The prince calls for whoever it is to come in, and Jon sees the Hound walk in and whisper something into the crown prince’s ear. The crown prince smiles and says. “My friends, the good news we have all been waiting for has come. My father is dead.”_

_At this they all stand, he, Lancel Lannister and Mors Rosby, they stand and then they get down on bended knee, and say the oaths they had practiced before, Jon’s heart hammering. “We do hereby swear to you, King Joffrey of the House Baratheon, first of that name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms that we as members of the Order of the Lion shall serve you until our dying breaths. Your wish is our command, your wish is our duty. We live to serve only you, and we shall see your enemies vanquished.”_

_There is silence as the king takes their oaths, and then he speaks. “You may all rise, except for you Jon. I have a gift for you. My first act as king.”_

_Jon looks at the king then, his heart hammering even more than it was beforehand. “Your Grace?” he asks in question._

_The king draws his sword from his sheath and moves it to Jon’s left shoulder. “I King Joffrey Baratheon, first of my name, do hereby invest in you the powers of Winterfell and the North. As King it is my privilege to legitimise those who are worthy of the honour.” The king moves the sword to Jon’s right shoulder.  “And so I bestow upon you the name that has always been yours. You knelt Jon Snow, rise now Jon Stark.”_

_Jon looks at the king in surprise he rises to his feet shaking slightly, before he can speak, the king presses a scroll into his hand. “The written proof of what I have done for you on this day Jon. Signed by myself, my mother and the High Septon. You are Lord of Winterfell now by my decree. Now go and do what you must.”_

The opening of the cabin door takes him out of his thoughts and he puts the piece of parchment away inside his pockets, and looks up to see Tommen walking in. The Prince- or is it King now, he does not know- looks at him a moment and then says. “You look as if you have seen a ghost Jon, what is the matter?”

Jon looks at his friend, and his king? And he does not know what to say, he does not want to lie, but at the same time, the truth would be far too damming and so instead he says. “It’s travelling on a ship. It does not sit well with me I fear. Ghost does not like it overly much either.” He nods to his direwolf curled on the floor.

His friend laughs, a great booming sound that reminds Jon of King Robert. “Ah, it is the same with Sansa. I left Durran with her, for it seems that my lion gives her great comfort. Gods I cannot wait to get off this damned ship though. I do not like the sea almost as much as you do Jon. Truth be told I would rather have travelled by horse but it was far too dangerous.”

Jon nods, he is well aware of the why, he just wishes the ship would not sway so violently, perhaps it is a sign from the gods. Noticing his friend looking at him he speaks. “I know Your Grace. But perhaps it is better this way. At least then there is less chance of them catching us unawares, for Lord Stannis still holds most of the royal fleet.”

His friend grimaces at the mention of Lord Stannis. “Don’t talk to me about my damned uncles. They are a lot of traitors and cowards. Renly fled the capital like a craven, and my uncle Stannis? He has not stirred since Jon Arryn died, gods alone knows what he is doing on that damned island of his.”

Jon nods. “It is passing odd how none would allow this ship toward Dragonstone. Having to sail around the island was passing strange. Do you think it has something to do with that red woman that we saw with Ser Davos?”

His friend sighs. “I do not know, but whoever and whatever is causing my uncle to do this, it is working. I fear we might not gather the numbers should war break out.”

Jon looks at the king in surprise. “You think there is still a chance for peace? I had thought it was only war now that your father, King Robert, was dead.”

Tommen looks at him strangely for a moment before he speaks. “So did I, but then my mother does not want my brother and I fighting. She never has, and perhaps there is still a part of her that is not so consumed by lust for power, that can be appealed to. And besides, my grandfather will want us at peace, for it benefits him for the realm to be so.”

Something King Joffrey had said when Jon had been in his company before leaving King’s Landing comes to mind then. “I do not think so Your Grace. After all my father did attack Ser Jaime.”

“Only because my fool of an uncle attacked him first!” Tommen protests.

“Of course,” Jon says his voice surprisingly calm. “But, Lord Tywin will see this as an attack on his favourite child. His golden son, he will want to get revenge.”

His friend looks at him with surprise and then realization that gives way to anger. “Gods dammit. That was a trap, a trap to get my grandfather involved. We were played.” The prince looks at him long and hard for a moment before saying something that sends shivers through Jon. “For a moment there you sounded like Joffrey.”


	44. Mouth For War

**12 th Month of 298 A.C. Storm’s End**

**Renly Baratheon**

His brother was dead, the over looming shadow of Robert Baratheon had gone from the world, and if he was being honest with himself, completely honest, Renly was relieved. His brother, who had been just a shadow of his former self, had regained some of his old lust for life upon seeing his son Prince Tommen, and yet there was something inside the king that prevented him from truly returning to his younger days. The king was dead, and his pain was at an end, but he left behind a realm that was beggared by debt and was heavily influenced by the Lannisters. That was something that Renly could not allow to stand, he had no doubt that the Lannisters had his brother killed, it was more likely a plot of Cersei than anyone else, and yet there was a part of him that insisted he fight for Tommen, and yet he knew Tommen was still under great sway of Gerion Lannister, who was a different type of Lannister but a Lannister all the same. The seven kingdoms had had enough of the Lannisters, it was time for a new family to come back to power. Renly intended to bring that about, and was thankful that Ser Cortnay had sent the ravens out when instructed, for now his men were gathered. The banners of Estermont, Caron, Dondarrion, Tarth, Selmy all the lords of the Stormlands had come bringing some twenty thousand men with them. It was an impressive force, though Renly knew that they would need to march south to meet with the Tyrell army marching up the Rose Road.

The Stormlords he knew were eager for a fight, they were eager to crush the Lannisters, but they were also wary of the Tyrells, a traditional enemy from before the seven kingdoms were united under one throne, and Renly knew that he had to convince them that to follow him was the right course of action. He took a breath and then spoke to the assembled gathering, all the voices quietened down then and he felt a shiver of pride. “My lords, thank you for coming. Thank you for answering my call to arms. It is a difficult thing I ask of you I know. The Lannisters are strong and powerful, and they hold a large army, and yet we have the chance to right the wrongs that they have inflicted on our realm. We can deal justice to them for the murder of my brother.” There was a large yell of approval at that.

A voice called out then, and he suspected he knew who it was. “Why do we not fight for Prince Tommen my lord? Prince Tommen is King Robert’s son, and a son comes before a brother.”

Renly had been expecting this and so he replies. “Aye, tis true, Prince Tommen is indeed my brother’s son, and yet he too is under the influence of the Lannisters. Gerion Lannister, a man who schemes and plots know no end. That is the man who would truly rule the kingdoms. Not my nephew. We have had enough of Lannister rule have we not? It is time the Baratheons and the Stormlords took what is rightfully ours!”

There is a roar of approval at this but the voice once more calls out. “Why not try to negotiate with Prince Tommen? After all the prince would bring with him the North and the Riverlands. And combined we are more than enough for the Lannisters. My lord is unwed, would it not do us some good to have a grown man waiting in the wings should you fall in battle?”

There is some muttering at this, and Renly looks at Loras out of the corner of his eye, before smiling and continuing. “I understand your concern my lord. But trust me when I say that having anything to do with Prince Tommen will be like drinking a chalice filled with poisoned water. It is a wrong that must be righted. My nephews shall be dealt with accordingly. But we must unite first and foremost with the Tyrells. For they shall bolster our numbers and ensure that we have the strength to out match all.”

Lord Caron speaks then. “Why must we ally with the Tyrells my king? After all if we were to seek alliance with the Starks and with Tullys then it would be like the alliance that put your brother on the throne all those years ago. The Tyrells are schemers who will jump at the first sign of trouble.”

Renly feels Loras tense next to him, but luckily his lover does not move to act. His voice calm Renly replies. “I appreciate your concern Bryce, but trust me when I say that the Tyrells will not be leaving our campaign any time soon. I have agreed to marry Lord Mace’s daughter Margaery, we shall be tied in blood. Any man who breaks such an agreement is a man that no lord will follow. We shall have the might of the Reach behind us, and some of the Riverlords have already agreed to fight for me. We shall remove the stain of Lannister influence from King’s Landing begin afresh.”

There is some muttering at this and then Lord Estermont, a wizened old man speaks his voice soft. “We must prepare for an attempted siege. No doubt Lannister will try and curry favour with the Redwynes, for they are still captive in the Red Keep. Should the Redwyne fleet come calling we do not have the numbers to hold it off. Perhaps seeking an alliance with Lord Stannis could be beneficial Your Grace?”

Renly looks at the old man and snorts. “Do you truly think my brother would be willing to ally with me? With us?” he gestures at the lords next to and below. “He will demand our fealty because he believes himself the rightful king, and yet he has done nothing to earn that. He is not that good of a commander, and he is in thrall to a worshipper of a fire god. Aerys Targaryen was a worshipper of a fire god and he brought the realm to its knees. Do you want someone like that sat on the throne?”

“No!” a chorus of voices shout. “The Seven are the only true gods. Damnation to the other false idols!”

Renly nods. “Aye. The Seven are the true gods. They forged Westeros in their own image, and ensured that we of the noble stock took control. There is nothing there for false idols. We must ensure that only the true believers survive. And I intend to ensure that comes about. We cannot have the corruption of the lions infesting our kingdom anymore.”

There are shouts of approval then. And then Lord Tarth speaks his voice loud and clear. “I know one thing my lords, my king. With the backing of the Tyrells we shall have the backing of the faith, for they are rooted in Oldtown more than they ever could be in King’s Landing. Our cause is a holy one and we shall see it through. King Renly is the only king who knows the ways of the seven and he shall fight to see it through.”

There are more shouts of approval then and then someone shouts. “King Renly is the one who shall lead us through to the light. He is Hugor the Hill come again. Renly Baratheon King. King Renly. Long may he reign!”

As others begin taking up the chant, Renly basks in their praise and the glory they are bestowing on him. He wonders if this is how his brother felt when they proclaimed him king. If this is why he fought so hard, not for the woman but for the crown, the cheers and the glory. He dreams of sitting in King’s Landing, on the Iron Throne, and knows that he will succeed. None can stop him, not with his lords desperate to fight for him and with the strength of the Tyrells behind him. The feast continues for another few hours. There are lots of toasts raised and many people speak, once it is done, Renly and Loras walk back together to Renly’s chambers, the lords are drunk and are feasting onward, but Renly, Renly wants only to sleep and to talk with his lover. As they slip out of their clothes and get into bed, Loras asks. “Did you truly mean what you said?”

Renly looks at Loras and asks. “What do you mean? I said many things in the hall tonight. You will need to be more specific my love.”

Loras with his curls pushing into his face speaks. “When you said that the seven are the true gods. Did you truly mean it? You know what will happen should the faith ever discover us and what we are. We shall be burned for sinners and your bid for the crown will fall.”

Renly snorts then. “Loras my love, you are good with a sword but terribly naïve. The members of the Faith who matter are all in Oldtown, and they have long known about us. In fact I do believe the Starry Father is actually in favour of men and men being together. We are not abnormal, we are merely choosing a different path. It is no sin to be with the one you love. And soon enough there will be change in Baelor as well.”

His lover looks unconvinced. “And how do you know this Renly? We are not in King’s Landing anymore. Your influence lessens by the day. We leave for Summerhall on the morrow, how can we be certain that things will go accordingly? Stark has already fled with Prince Tommen, Myrcella is missing. How do we know what is going to happen in the viper’s pit?”

Renly looks at his lover and says. “Because when one wishes to be king, one never takes all of one’s assets. I still have members of my household at court, and one is currently serving as Tyrion Lannister’s bed maid I believe. I will continue getting information through these sources and acting on it. And regardless, Cersei is very much a predictable sort of person. She believes that she is clever, and in that she falters. For her schemes are far too easy to predict. When the time is right I shall reveal what I know about her. And that in itself will stunt her and her son.”

Loras is looking at him intently. “What of Prince Tommen? Do you think he will bend the knee to you? With Eddard oh so honourable Stark whispering in his ear? I do not think so. And you said it yourself, Gerion Lannister will always be the power behind Tommen. He will not bend, and that will lead to more war.”

Renly muses over this and says. “I think Tommen will wish to be safe. It is obvious to anyone with eyes that he is deeply in love with the Stark girl. If we offer them safe passage then they will be tempted to bend. Tommen I do not think wants the throne, he is only doing what he thinks is right. But if I can convince him that what is right is to support me then he will.”

“How will you do that my love?” Loras asks as they get into bed.

Renly pauses for a moment and then says. “I am not entirely sure just yet, but I know that the key to getting Tommen to bend is through the Stark girl. There are many people who have an interest in her, and one of them does happen to owe me a debt.”

Loras looks at him then surprised. “You cannot mean to use him? Surely not. The man is despicable, and gods alone know what Tommen will do if he hears about this.”

Renly sighs and says. “If one wants to be king, one has to do despicable things sometimes. Life is not a song Loras, and it is time we all learned that. My nephew especially. I shall send the raven out before I leave tomorrow.”

 

 

* * *

 

**Winterfell**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

Winterfell, home, at last, after the damnable sin that had been King’s Landing and the Red Keep. Ned had never felt so relieved to be home as he had when they had seen Winterfell whilst riding from White Harbour. The Laughing Lion, Ser Gerion’s ship had been docked at port and from there they had spent a day in White Harbour with the Manderlys before moving on. Whilst in New Castle, Ned had asked Lord Wyman to begin the construction of a fleet. He did not want the north to be left wanting as they fought the war perhaps time would come for ships to be built on the western coast as well. The Lannisters were sure to get involved. Winterfell itself was filled with activity as the preparation for war began. There was much and more that needed to be done and they were all doing their part. Ned felt tired, and as he looked at the men for that was what they were now, in the room with him, he knew they felt the same.

King Tommen, his eyes tired, though perhaps not from lack of sleep spoke then. “We must move quickly. I know my brother, and I know for certain that he is already planning on making a move sooner rather than later. The letter,” at this the King held up a letter that had been waiting for them at Winterfell. “Is proof enough of that. The demands he makes are ridiculous the accusations even more so. We must march south and soon.”

Ned speaks then. “Your Grace, whilst the rush is understandable. We must take some time to plan and to begin ensuring that the alliances are secure. We know that Joffrey thinks that he has us deep in the ditch, but he is making a big assumption and that is the fact that his grandfather will fight for him in this war.”

The king looks at him a moment before saying. “But we played right into his hands. That attack by our uncle was planned. Ser Jaime’s injuries will be more than enough to get my grandfather angry enough to consider taking action against you. For he has always been irrational when it came to the Kingslayer.”

The king’s lion growls slightly at the mention of the man’s name, and Ned feels the floor shake. Sighing he says. “And yet Lord Tywin is a cautious man. He will be weighing up every possible option before he marches, and even then who knows what course of action he might well take.”

Ser Gerion speaks then. “Lord Eddard is right Your Grace. Whatever feelings my brother has for Jaime, he has always been a man of caution. He will not make a move that might well endanger his position with you, should you emerge victorious. It will be a difficult thing for him, but perhaps he might well remain neutral for the time being.”

The king sights for a moment before saying. “He will not remain neutral once the declaration goes out though. For he is not rewarded in it, and I do not intend to reward him for it. He is a man of many talents that is true, but he will also try to control me and I do not wish to be controlled.” At this Durran, the King’s lion growls even more.

“What do you mean Your Grace?” Ned asks. “What declaration?”

“The formal declaration announcing myself as king and my brother as nothing more than a pretender. My grandfather, no matter how cautious a man he might be is one of tradition, he would rather see my brother on the throne for it follows the right laws of succession,” at this a grimace crosses the king’s face that leaves Ned slightly confused. “And if it means that supporting him upholds tradition then he will do so. That is why I have formalised my earlier decision.”

Silence follows after this and then Ser Gerion speaks. “You cannot be serious Your Grace? Such a move would most definitely push Tywin into Joffrey’s camp. Why would you do such a thing and push him away?”

The king’s jaw sets into a stubborn line then, something that reminds Ned a lot of Robert. “Because it is the right thing to do. You have been nothing but loyal to me uncle. You have always given me council when I have needed it, and you helped raise me. You would make a far better Lord of Casterly Rock than grandfather. The man cares not for anyone who is not himself. It is time he realises what changes this would bring about.”

Ned looks at the king and then at Ser Gerion and realises what the king is planning, Ser Gerion speaks then. “It is a move that would push Tywin firmly into Joffrey’s camp Tommen. Is that truly something you want to do? I do not want a title. Aiding you in this war is more than enough for me.”

The king looks uncertain at this, and then says. “I disagree. A man such as yourself is more than perfect to be Lord of the Westerlands. The Westerlands has become a realm subjected to tyranny, and the time has come for change. There is no point in allowing that place to fall into disrepair because of the problems of my grandfather. Pride will bring him down and that is something we must use.”

Ned looks at his foster son then seeing a new side of him, and he is not sure whether he approves of this or not. Ser Gerion merely says. “If that is your wish my king, then I shall be more than happy to oblige.”

The king nods and then turns back to Ned and asks. “When will the lords of the north all be ready to march and leave. We must be prepared for whatever my brother throws at us for it is sure to be troublesome.”

Ned notes the shifting that his son Jon does then and wonders at it, but replies. “They shall all be here within the next few days my king. We shall be ready and waiting for the march soon enough.”

The king nods and then says. “There are two other issues that need to be discussed before we can end this meeting. My uncles Stannis and Renly, neither have declared their intention for what they mean to do. Renly is someone who has more ambition than sense, but it is my uncle Stannis who worries me. What we saw on Dragonstone, that, that is concerning.”

Ned remembering the look in the Lord of Dragonstone’s eyes and the presence of that red woman shivers slightly. “I do not know what has become of Stannis Baratheon my king. He was always a hard man driven by duty, but this time it seems that woman has taken over the control of this thoughts. And as such he is a threat that must be taken more seriously than Renly. Renly has never fought in war before, and regardless of what he might think the Stormlords will never willingly fight alongside the Tyrells. There are still harsh memories of the rebellion ingrained there.”

The King nods. “Where will my uncle get his support from? It is obvious to anyone with a brain that the lords of the narrow sea still harbour allegiance to the dragons, even though the dragons have long since disappeared from memory. He will struggle to keep them together and in order, especially considering the type of person he is.”

Ned considers this and then says. “I do believe that their sense of duty will ensure that they follow him Your Grace. The lords of the narrow sea do not like the Lannisters, memories of the sack are still strong there, and from my time as hand there are those who see Stannis as being like King Maekar, a man whose memory is remembered fondly amongst men like Velaryon and Celtigar. And then there are the Florents who should side with Stannis because of their family connection. It will be an interesting thing that is for sure.”

Ser Gerion speaks then. “The Faith will no doubt support Renly more for the fact that he has always been seen as a supporter of their original aims. And yet there are as Lord Eddard says, going to be tensions between them and the Stormlords, long memories are at play here and that is something that could well be used.”

Ned shifts slightly. “There is no honour in playing on tensions Ser Gerion. If we are to win this war, we do it the traditional way. Not the way the Lannisters will try and win it.”

Ser Gerion laughs then. “Come now Ned, we both know that the way in which the king’s claim is being based on, is through with what you, yourself persuaded the king to do. The ball has already been set rolling and now we must see where it goes. There is no chance that it can be stopped now.”

Ned hears someone shift behind him and turns to see his son Jon shifting once more, he looks questioningly at him but his son does not look at him. That is something that worries him slightly, but pushing it from his mind he speaks. “What do you suggest be done then Ser Gerion?”

“The declaration must be sent out, and it must be sent out before the men of the north start coming through. It must be sent throughout the realms, for you can be certain that Joffrey and Cersei will be sending their own declarations soon enough. And of course the king must marry Lady Sansa that must happen almost immediately, otherwise there will be issues when we come to the Twins. And once we know where precisely Myrcella is we must act at once.” Ser Gerion says.

Ned nods and his son Robb asks. “Where is she Ser? Where did your man take her? It should not have taken her this long to get here surely?”

Ser Gerion looks at Robb a moment before responding. “He knows what he is doing. There will be times where they must hide and when they must not move. But he will know where to find us when he feels it is right.”

“How will he know that? Especially if we leave before they arrive here?” Robb asks.

“Because he knows how to find me, and if he wants to be found we shall find him. Until then we must just wait and see. For now though there are other more important things that must be done, and I suggest we see to them.” Ser Gerion says.

The king nods. “Aye we have done enough planning for now. Let us get some rest and move on from here.” With that they stand, the king and his lion, and Ser Gerion walk out of the room, followed by Robb.

But before Jon can walk out Ned calls out. “Jon, son, stay here a moment will you not.”

His son stops and looks at him hesitantly and asks. “What is it father?”

Ned sighs and asks. “What is bothering you son. And before you say nothing, I know there is something bothering you. I see it in your eyes son. What is it that troubles you so much? Is it the war?”

He can tell his son wishes to avoid the question, and yet his son still gives him and answer, albeit not one he was expecting. “I want to ask Joy to marry me.”

“Marry you? Whatever for? Have you dishonoured her?” Ned asks surprised.

His son shakes his head furiously. “No of course not. I am not a man of such low honour as that! No I love her father, and I truly do wish to marry her.”

“Then what is holding you back?” Ned asks.

“I…I do not know if I am worthy. We are about to go to war, and I…I…” his son trails off then and Ned has a horrible feeling he knows what has happened.

 


	45. Oldstones

****

**1 st Month of 299 A.C. **

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

His body still ached from the fighting with Stark and with Ser Barristan. His body had the scars from that conflict all over, and he knew, he just knew that his over eagerness to act, to show his loyalty to Cersei had cost him. Tommen, the boy most likely despised him now, there was no hope for them being able to make amends now. Jaime was not sure why he continued to do Cersei’s bidding anymore. He supposed a part of him was still too entwined with her and her thoughts to truly think outside of his own possibilities. There was something nagging away at him about her, and yet he did not know where to turn to. Something was missing and he did not know how to fill that gap.

Though he was not completely ready to fight a war, his sister had demanded that he ride out to battle with the men from the crownlands to deal with difficulties in the Riverlands, and so he had done. Bracken and his allies had bent to Joffrey’s banner easily enough turning from Renly and the phantom promise that that boy had made. And they had added their strength to his as the planned siege of Riverrun had moved ahead. His uncle Kevan had appeared with some three thousand men from the West to aid in the siege, a sign if any was needed that Jaime’s father was remaining on the fringe of battle until a clear winner was decided. There was some resentment there, for Jaime wanted his father’s guidance, for the first time he needed to know his father’s thoughts, for his own were too divisive to lead to a clear head.

Jaime looked at the men in the command tent, all of either dubious or uncertain loyalty and sighed. Riverrun would on for long enough, perhaps too long. “We cannot remain here indefinitely. Edmure Tully has not been fool enough to try and engage us in open combat, and yet we do not have the supply chain to continue this siege for longer than perhaps a week.” Jaime says.

“Ser Edmure is headstrong as are his companions Ser.” Lord Jonos Bracken says. “If we wait for long enough, they will come out demanding the chance to fight and prove themselves. It is then we can break them against their walls.”

“If we wait that long then undoubtedly those Riverlords who did not rally to the King’s banner will have had enough chance to muster under whoever’s banner and fight to relieve the siege.” His uncle Ser Kevan says. “We must make a move sooner rather than later. There is no point in merely remaining here unless we have a clear course of action.”

“Then we must either begin the engagement here ourselves or we must retreat back to Stone Hedge and allow Tully to believe we are retreating for good.” Lord Shawney says.

“Retreating is not an option. The king has asked us to take this castle, and so we shall take it. We shall not leave this unmoved, Riverrun will fall or we shall shed blood trying to achieve this.” The newly knighted Ser Hendry Bracken says.

Jaime looks at his nephew’s friend and sighs. “That is all well and good, but unless we can follow up those words of bravado we shall be nothing more than mere puppets dancing on the strings of those in Riverrun.”

Before anyone else can reply to this the tent flap opens and Ser Armory Lorch and Sandor Clegane, both of who had been leading scouting parties enter. Clegane looks flushed with drink and with anticipation. “We bring news my lords.” Lorch says.

Jaime looks at the man a moment considering him, he does not like Lorch  but he knows the man is good at what he does. And so he asks. “What have you learned?”

Lorch is silent a moment and then he says. “We found men carrying the traitor Tommen Baratheon’s banner near Oldstones and once or twice we even saw the man himself riding at the head of a party.”

“How many men did he have?” Jaime asks sharply.

Lorch is silent a moment stuck in thought it is Clegane who answers. “Near around four thousand men. This is no doubt just the beginning force, more men will be marching through the twins and down the Green Fork way.”

Jaime is not surprised that Clegane knows this, after all, he is a member of Joffrey’s inner circle, and Jaime himself is aware of the betrayal of the Stark bastard. Before he can speak though his uncle says. “This could well be a trap. Tommen might well be looking to lure us into a false sense of confidence over this. We do not know for certain where the rest of his men are.”

Jaime shakes his head and says. “We both know what Clegane has said is the truth uncle. The Stark bastard has been giving us this information as a sign of his loyalty. There is no reason to suspect it is otherwise. We must end this war quickly, I will not see more blood spilt whilst Renly and Stannis remain at large.”

His uncle looks at him for a long time, something passing over his eyes, a look that Jaime is not sure he likes. Eventually his uncle speaks. “What do you suggest we do then Ser Jaime? You are the commander here.”

Jaime looks at his uncle for a moment and then at the lords gathered around him. “We shall take heed from these findings and march. Half the forces shall come with me, and the other half shall remain here laying siege to Riverrun under your command Ser Kevan. It is time we began this war properly. The sooner we can end this conflict, the sooner we can get to fighting the true threats to the south.” He pauses and then looks at Clegane. “Where did you see Tommen and his men?”

There is a moment’s silence and then Clegane says gruffly. “They were heading toward Oldstones.”

Jaime nods and then to the room at large says. “We ride for Oldstones. Lords Bracken, Shawney, Goodbrook, you are to come with me. The others shall stay behind. We ride out now.” With that the meeting comes to an end, and Jaime nods as his squire has already saddled his horse. Jaime mounts his horse and takes the reins before spurring his horse onward. His men follow, the banners of the Riverlords loyal to the crown, the men of the crownlands who he knows follow for reward not honour. They all follow him and they ride, ride as fast as Jaime as ever truly ridden before in his life. His heart is hammering, he wonders if he will be able to end the war with Tommen here and now, or if he will fail, fail just as he failed Queen Rhaella and her daughter all those years ago. He cannot have that happen again. Not again, never again.

His thoughts are all the company he has as they ride toward Oldstones, the ruined fort of the old kings of the rivers and hills. His blade is drawn, and yet the ground is silent. There is no sign of his nephew and his men, and Jaime wonders if this has been a trap. And then just as he is about to say something, the sound of hooves, and heavy on the ground comes thundering into the clearing. The ruins shake and men come crawling out from the ruins. Jaime his heart hammering feels the thrill of battle crawl through him the worries and the tension they are all flying away now. This is what he knows to do. He has never been good at the game, but he knows how to fight. It is what he lives for, this thing, the killing and the fighting, it is what he was made for.

His sword is drawn and soon enough it is wet with the blood of the enemy. He does not know whether they are northmen or men from the Riverlands, but he does not care, all he cares about is that they are dying to his sword. He swings, and his arms ache, he remembers his humiliation at the hands of the savage and the old man and roars a challenge for all to hear. He will bring them down to their knees, and he will take the pleasure from it. His sword swings and he hears the crunch of bone on steel, he grins and roars anew, but his arms are failing him.

His wounds have not healed properly, he is nowhere near ready enough for the strains of battle, and yet he does not know what he would do without them. His blood is flowing and for the first time since he was last with Cersei he feels alive. His blood is up, and the world is reduced to only two things, the urge to kill and the urge to find Tommen. His nephew must be made to see reason, there cannot be any chance for him to succeed. No chance for him to be allowed to gain a toehold. For if that is to happen, the ghosts of the past will come back to haunt Jaime. The ghosts of broken promises and that silver haired prince he once thought he owed his life to. The secret that only he and his sister know, and that he fears the King found out about. Gods it all rides on this.

Jaime hears a shout and sees an opening, a direwolf, white as death is fighting off three men, three of his own men, and there is his master, the bastard, right where Jaime wants him to be. He grins inside his helm and then spurs his horse onward to the bastard, determined to finish this. He cuts his way through the throngs of men and boys who stand in his way. His sword is red with blood, it fills him with a sense of pride. The thing that he is good at. The bastard is looking at him now, and Jaime can smell the fear on him, and though this is the game, the bastard still looks convincing. Jaime laughs in his helm, the bastard, is good very good. And as expected when men come toward him the bastard roars at them and yet they are cut down. More northmen come falling down to the ground, the bastard’s direwolf falls down playing dead, and Jaime looks at the bastard, their eyes meet and then a shout comes and Jaime sees the man he has been looking for.

Eddard Stark, dressed head to toe in grey armour looks furious. “You will go no further Kingslayer.” The man snarls, his helm making his voice sound ominous.

Remembering something Stark had said to him many moons ago in Winterfell, Jaime does not bother replying to him, but merely spurs his horse on and charges at the man. His body is paining, but the will is there, and as they meet in a clash of steel, Jaime knows that today he will get his revenge. Their swords gleam off of one another, sparks fly, and Jaime grits his teeth through the throng of pain that engulfs him. He looks at the man and sees the determination ingrained on Stark’s face, but he knows the man does not have much left in him, the plan has gone well, and it has done well. Jaime grits through the pain and raises his sword once more, this time he is determined that the blow he strikes will be the killing blow. The fighting moves around them like a pool of constant death, unending, never beginning, and only continuing. But to Jaime there is only Stark, and he knows the man feels the same. They circle one another, a heated dance of two animals, the lion and the wolf. The dance is fierce and primal they exchange blows, both their powers weakening, Jaime girts and groans but eventually finds a weak spot in the man’s armour and plunges his sword into the gap in Stark’s armour. He feels relief as Stark’s body convulses and the man slackens in the saddle. Just as his own body is hit by a wave of pain. The world begins to go black as Jaime Lannister feels the stranger’s embrace, a smile on his lips.


	46. Oldstones Part 2

**1 st Month of 299 A.C. Oldstones**

**Jon Stark**

It was chaos, complete and utter chaos. Battle, his first real taste of it was something heady and beautiful. He enjoyed the feeling of power that came with being the one to decide whether or not someone lived or died. There was no uncertainty here, not with his sword in his hands, and Ghost by his side. There was only one thing that was certain, either he would kill or he would be killed. There was nothing in between, and with everything else being so uncertain this was a great relief. The battle was flowing around him but he only had eyes for the duel going on in front of him, between his father and the Kingslayer. His father had come running just as Jon knew he would, and he felt nothing but contempt for the man as he watched him struggle. As planned no one was fighting him, no one was trying curtail his ability to watch his father struggle to continue through the Kingslayer.

Jon’s own body aches somewhat as he watches the two men fight, like dogs over a bone, he had done his fair share of fighting before this moment and his body bears testament to that. But as he watches it now, he merely looks through it all as if seeing from out of his body. The Kingslayer falls as does his father, and he knows one is dead but the other is not. As men continue fighting, ignoring the two giants who have fallen around them, Jon moves from his slumber and moves his horse toward where his father lies, broken and bleeding. As he comes to look at his father, he feels nothing but contempt for him. He dismounts and looks at his father, Ghost by his side. “Father.” He says his mouth curling into a snarl.

His father is bleeding throughout, different parts of him are broken and torn and Jon feels slightly sick as he looks at him. “Jon….what are you doing here?” his father asks, his voice torn. “I thought I told you to run.”

Jon looks down at his father, years of anger coming to the surface. “I am a man now. I do not listen to you. No more than you ever listened to me when I pleaded with you for the truth. You kept it from me, and now, now you have suffered for it.”

“Jon…please son, run now, run and tell Tommen and Robb. They must know. The Lannisters will strike back harder now, now that we are gone.” His father says his words slurring.

Jon snorts. “Oh please father, as if you even care. You lived your whole life by a code, and when the truth did not fit that code you removed it and gave another version that fit your code of honour.”

“What are you talking of Jon? I did everything I could to ensure you were safe and happy.” His father says his words truly beginning to slur.

His father raises a hand and Jon pushes it aside. “Please, spare me your lies. You did everything you could to ensure that we fit into your narrow vision of the world. And yet you did not even try to consider that perhaps we might not want to live within the twisted coils of what your own hell had created. You created monsters in place of people.”

His father looks taken aback by this. “I…please Jon you have to understand.”

“Understand? What do I have to understand? You are a man not a god, father. You do not have the right to tell me what I can and cannot understand. You lost that right the moment you consigned me to nothingness during the feast when Robert Baratheon came to Winterfell. I was nothing and it took only a kind word for me to be there. You listened to your wife and maester, and denied me a chance of reaching the great heights you promised me.” Jon snarls.

“My helm lift my helm Jon.” His father slurs.

Jon does as he is bid, and removes his father’s helm throwing it into the dust. His father’s eyes are bloodshot, he will die here today, Jon knows this and yet he does not care. “What? Are you going to try and dissuade me once more about following my own choices? Like you did in Winterfell and in King’s Landing? I do not think so father. You might have power over my fool of a brother, but not me. Never me. Not anymore.”

His father sighs, a deep shuddering sound. “You are lost Jon, lost and that is my fault. I have not given you the chances I gave Robb, and for that I am sorry. I never meant for you to feel less than anyone. I tried so very hard to break the mould, but it was hard son. And I am sorry if you feel I did not do my job properly.”

Jon merely snarls. “You have failed to fulfil anything basic father. You were a terrible lord, and an even terrible father. You gave your nerves and fears the right to rule you and for that you have suffered. There is only way to live in this world, and that is by fighting like the dogs we truly are. Honour is the death of sense, and now, now you have learned that lesson.”

His father looks at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. “Do not let this destroy you son. There is still good in you son, do not allow this to ruin that. Please if for no one else’s sake but mine. Please allow this to heal you. We cannot allow him to get the better of us, not this time.”

Jon snorts. “You don’t get it do you old man? I am not allowing anything to get the better of me. I am doing this of my own free will. And now, now you will pay for the crime you committed. You have lied to us all through these many years, I see it now. And for that, that you must die.” with that Jon draws his sword from its sheath and with one slick motion plunges it into his father’s chest, watching as his father’s eyes go white.

* * *

 

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

He hated Oldstones, this damp ruin, where kings had once sat and dined. It was nothing more than stones right now. And he despised it. It was something that needed to be lived through though, in order to ensure that things did not take a turn for the worst. His body was covered in sweat, his arms ached, and his chest, his chest stung. He was pushing through it all, thinking of his wife back in Winterfell, Sansa, beautiful and daring. Her lips swollen from their kisses, gods he missed her. He wanted her and she was the reason he kept going through. Oldstones was burning before him and all he knew was that he needed to keep going.

The war was waging before him, Brightroar was swinging in his hand. Men were falling before him. Victims to his rage, the anger that filled him to its very core. He was determined to win, and this time there would be no prisoners. His sword swung from left to right, hacking its way through the men that stood in his way. Those that he did not get, were torn down limb from limb by Durran, and that filled him with a savage sort of pleasure as well. There was something primal about all of this. Something very primal. They would win this battle and then from there move onto Riverrun. It was time for something new and different.

Men were beaten and bloodied, Tommen’s heart was hammering in his chest. Blood was being spilt, and this was all because his brother was too much of a fool to recognise their father’s wishes. By rights, gods he was beginning to sound like his uncle Stannis, there was something there, but he knew what he needed to do. He swings his sword, and hacks away at the enemy as they come streaming forward. His arms begin to grow weary as the battle convulses, the plan had worked to an extent they had managed to catch the Lannisters by surprise with their hidden men deep within the bushes and the trees. It was a good plan and one he was proud of. Durran was panting heavily beside his horse, his mane covered in blood and bits of bodies.

“Baratheon!” the shout of his name draws his attention and he sees a man bearing the arms of House Bracken coming toward him. As his vision clears, he sees that it is Hendry Bracken and his anger begins to boil.

“Bracken!” he roars back. “I am surprised to find you here. There are no little girls for you to play with.”

The man snarls something that is lost within the din of battle, and he does not reply immediately, but merely streams forward. Tommen digs his spurs into his horse and moves forward sword raised, Durran at his side. He swings his sword and they meet in a clang of steel and sparks. Pushing against one another, thronging through the danger that comes from fighting in ruins. They swing, and break apart, only to meet once more in the crush of steel and the throng of bodies, both living and dead. Brightroar gleams in the light, and it glimmers the red of blood, Bracken pushes his way toward him and they begin their dance anew.

Their swords echo in the din, glinting silver and red, sparks golden fly across from where their masters duel. The fight is excruciatingly slow and also very quick. It is surprising to him, but it makes no matter to him. The sword pushes through, cleaving through the wind and the air, they make progress, Bracken is being pushed back, Tommen using his strength to force the man back into the darkness. His heart is pounding in his chest, Durran is eating his way through the men Bracken brought with him. Their dance continues and soon enough the weaknesses become more apparent in Bracken, and Tommen moves to exploit them.

Feinting to his right, Bracken follows and Tommen then ducks to his left at the latest possible moment, before slamming his full weight into the man. Throwing himself off of his horse and throwing Bracken off of his, they fall to the ground in a clatter of metal and steel. Their horses are stuck elsewhere, and their swords are thrown from their grasp, the brawl begins. Tommen swings his armoured fist Bracken’s chest again and again, the armour damaging his knuckles, but he knows that in the commotion of the tumble and the brawl their helms were thrown. Their fists meet one another and the sound of metal on metal is terrifying in the din. His knuckles are bloody, but still they keep fighting, swinging at one another as if their lives depend on it. They do he supposes, his body is aching, and he feels tired, so very tired, and yet still the push continues.

Bracken is weak now, Tommen can feel it, he pushes off the man and then jumps down pinning his full weight onto the man, and then begins hammering away with his fists. One punch, then another, then another. Hitting as hard as he is worth, swinging and punching. His fists are bloody, stuck deep within the combination of adrenaline and pure rage that has begun to fill him. He swings and swings, and Bracken is now falling down into blood and mess. Nothing more than the bones beneath the flesh. He stops midway through, the urge to know something that has been nagging at him making him stop. Bracken’s lips are cracked and bleeding and yet he still laughs. “You….you are still the same Tommen. You think the world is black and white, and that there is nothing else to it. You are wrong. So very wrong. There is nothing black and white about the world we live in. And the sooner you realise that the better.”

“Tell me what I want to know then Bracken!” Tommen growls

Bracken his lips broken his face a mess merely grins and says. “What you fear the most has happened. He is ours now, and never will be yours again.” Bracken stops speaking then as the shouts begin ringing through.


	47. Oldstones/ Grief

**1 st Month of 299 A.C. Oldstones**

**Ser Gerion Lannister**

The battle was continuing despite the losses both sides had incurred. It was frenetic, the push, backward and forward the movement of the troops as they deigned to fight and pull. There was chaos, complete and utter chaos, and Gerion revelled within it. There was something about fighting, something about the act of swinging a sword that was appealing to men, Gerion have never fully understood it, but he revelled within it. His sword and his armour were dirtied and bloodied from the battle, but he knew that it was not over. There was more to be done, and so Gerion roared a command and the battle continued. The throng went forward, and so it went onward. His sword dangled from his hand and the push continued, swinging and slashing, fighting from the horse atop, the armour dangling.

Men came streaming forward, desperate to try and attack him. They fell to his sword, his sword that his father had given him once long ago, his sword that swung and dashed forth. His men were fighting around him, destroying the enemy, and fighting around the world. Blood began forming, the rivers of blood content to know that there was something else going on. They push forward. The surge is endless, Oldstones, the perfect place for a challenge such as this, it seems has become the tomb for which Jaime and his men will rest. It fills him with a sense of pleasure.

His sword swings and he follows, instinct kicking in and making him act as if there is nothing more than the chance to fight and survive. No thought of death enters his head, for he knows that death is only the end, not the beginning. There are worse things than death that was something he had been told once by his uncle, a long time ago. He does not remember when, but it is something he has kept inside of him for as long as he has lived. His sword is bloody, covered in dirt and grime. His heart is hammering in his chest, and his stomach flips and turns. But he knows the end is not in sight yet, not yet. There are those who still need to be killed.

More men come charging through the brink, determined it seems to fight him and die. He swings his sword, determined to break them, to end their lines, and to end their defiance. He cannot and will not allow them to surge through the brink. He cannot allow them to try and push forward. He has a duty, and he will damn well ensure that it is done. He bellows a command and his men come charging forward with him. They smash into the enemy host that is coming forward. Swinging their swords, slashing, crashing, and screaming for relief. No relief comes forward from the darkness for some, others meet the challenge with a laugh and a smile.

The enemy breaks as the push follows through, and Gerion laughs as they go running through the darkness. He laughs and laughs and laughs. As the enemy flees, he sees bodies piled on the ground and a sense of soberness engulfs him then. The war has just begun, and yet a sense of ending it right now fills him. As the battle winds down, men are taken prisoner, and others are put out of their misery. Gerion merely looks around at the scene, before leading his horse back to camp, dismounting, he begins preparing for the meeting that is to come now.

Once things have settled down a bit more, Gerion, still dressed in armour, walks toward the command tent, where the King, Lord Robb and their other commanders are already seated. The grim looks on their faces remind him of what they have lost. He speaks briefly. “It has been done?”

The king nods. “It has been done.”

“Where is Jon?” Gerion asks, concern filling his voice.

“He is resting now. I thought it best considering what he had to do.” The king says.

Gerion nods. “A wise move Your Grace, the fewer people who know just how much of a role Jon had in what happened the better.” He pauses then and turns to Lord Robb who looks shocked and dazed. “My condolences for your loss my lord. Lord Eddard was a good and true man.”

The new Lord of Winterfell looks at him with dazed eyes and merely says. “Thank you my lord. I know my father did what was necessary, but it was still a bit much do you not think? Having Jon be the one to end it?”

Gerion sits down then and sighs. “It was necessary. It had to look convincing. Lord Eddard knew that, as did Jon. We all have to do things that we do not like during war. It is why war is not a song.”

The Lord of Winterfell looks at him with hardened eyes then. “And now my family will suffer for it! We are being torn in two already, trying to fight this damned war. Jon is killing himself because of what he has had to do. It is no easy thing killing your father.”

Gerion looks at the new Lord of Winterfell and merely says. “I know that my lord. It is no easy thing to kill anyone, but to do what Jon did takes guts. The boy has shown that he is loyal and worthy. And yet he has done the thing that was expected of him by the cur who sits King Tommen’s throne. He will suffer yes, but your father knew what happened and was trying to save Jon.”

“But what has happened might well destroy Jon! Not save him. He is in his tent crying his eyes out because of something that you and our father asked him to do. How the hells can we expect him to recover from this? It might have convinced Joffrey, but if it ever does get out that he did it, then, then we will all be finished.” Lord Robb says.

The king speaks then his tone harsh. “No one will know about what happened. They will know that Lord Eddard died of his wounds nothing more. I will not have my brother be the reason we fall apart. Not again.”

Gerion looks at the king and says. “I am not sure it will be that easy my king. There were people there who saw Jon plunge the blade into Lord Eddard’s chest. How are you going to convince them that Jon did not willingly kill his own father?”

The king fixes him with a hard stare and says. “Because Lord Eddard was dying regardless, those who were there will thing that Jon was doing it to put the man out of his misery. And that is what we shall say, should anyone ask.”

Gerion sighs, he knows his nephew will not move from this point of view, and so he merely says. “The enemy has retreated, and with Jaime dead and ruined, we know they have lost one of their commanders. Riverrun is free for us to relieve.”

Gerion knows that the two young charges before him still feel uncomfortable about what has happened but the king speaks. “We shall need to consider our course of action. Riverrun is a strong fortress and should be able to withstand a siege for a period of time. But grandfather might well come crawling out of the wood work now that Jaime is dead. I do not know whether we should spread our forces or not.”

Gerion considers this and then says. “Keeping them together gives us more room to intimidate Joffrey and his men. And yet splitting them gives us a chance to fight on more fronts. Joffrey has just lost one of his best commanders, and that in itself is saying something. Harrenhal must needs be taken before we can truly focus on taking King’s Landing. Then there is the issue of Renly that needs to be dealt with.”

The two boys, men really, look at him surprised. “How can you think of something like that now? Lord Eddard’s body is barely cold and already you are planning and plotting.” The king says. “How are you able to do such a thing?”

Gerion looks at his nephew then and his voice is cold when he replies. “Because this is war Your Grace. We cannot afford to mourn the dead for too long, otherwise we shall become dead ourselves. We have a duty to ensure that Lord Eddard did not die in vain. Yes we are all hurting now, Jon especially, but we cannot afford to let that cloud our vision. The main aim when we rode out from Winterfell was to fight and take the throne for you. You must do that now. Use whatever anger and grief you are feeling to win this war.”

There is a long silence then, as the King looks at him, and he looks back at the king. His nephew, he can tell has many thoughts running around in his head, many burdens have now been placed on his shoulders, the least of which is now claiming the throne. Eventually the king merely sighs. “Very well, Robb, you will write to Winterfell and inform them of Lord Eddard’s passing. And go and speak with Jon, we must ensure he does nothing stupid.”

The Lord of Winterfell nods, and stands, but before he leaves, Gerion hears him ask. “What will you do, Your Grace?”

Gerion looks at his nephew, and sees the pain there, the raw pain of this battle etched onto his features. His nephew’s voice is soft when he replies. “I will do what I must.” With that Stark inclines his head and walks out of the tent, leaving the two of them alone. There is a long moment of silence then as they both sit there, left with their own thoughts, eventually the king speaks. “What have I done uncle?”

Gerion looks at his nephew, and sees the raw pain on his nephew’s face, the hurt and the anguish on his face. “You have done what was necessary to ensure that Joffrey continues to believe he has the upper hand Your Grace.”

His nephew sighs. “If this is what is required to keep Joffrey from winning, I am not sure whether I wish to continue on with this campaign. Asking Lord Eddard whether he was willing to allow this to happen was one thing, actually seeing it happen was another. Hendry Bracken was convinced Jon was theirs. So very convinced.”

“Then it worked. Yes it hurts, and yes it was not a good or honourable thing you asked them to do, but sometimes to get what one wants, one has to do the un-honourable thing. There was no other course of action that could have been taken. We both know that.” Gerion reasons.

His nephew looks at him, his voice hoarse. “Then is the throne truly worth it? I do not know whether I wish to go through this torture again. Asking them to do this, it was not right. It was beyond un-honourable, it was downright wrong.”

Gerion sighs. “Aye it was. I will not deny it. But, if this one act of wrong, prevents the thousands of wrong acts that your brother and uncles will commit to win the throne, then perhaps it is worth it.”

“Do you truly believe that uncle?” his nephew asks.

Gerion looks at his nephew then and takes some time to think over all that has happened. From learning of Joffrey’s plotting, to Jon’s role in that, to the plan being proposed by Eddard Stark, and even further on to when his father died and the role he and his brothers played in that. He looks at his nephew and he wonders when this will end, when the curse will ever end. His voice is soft when he replies. “I do not know any more nephew.”


	48. Denial

**2 nd Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Cersei Lannister**

She feels as if she has been torn in two, she cannot believe the words that have been sent to her. She does not understand them, and yet she knows deep down that they speak no lie. Her heart aches, and her chest feels as if it will rip itself out. Her twin is dead, gone, slain by Eddard Stark. Her twin, her other half, gone, completely gone, destroyed from this world. Her head is spinning, she feels sick, completely sick. She does not know how she will continue living on without Jaime, without him there to hold her together. Gods she does not know how she will do anything. Anything other than scream, that is what she desperately wants to do, and yet nothing will come from her lips. Only pain, pain manifests itself inside her and so she looks to her son, who it seems is determined not to allow this blow to affect him.

“You are certain that Stark is dead?” she hears her son say in the distance.

“Quite certain Your Grace. My sources report it. He was slain during the battle. Though none could clearly see who did the deed.” The master of whispers says.

Cersei knows it is a lie, but she does not say anything. Her son merely grins. “Good so he did do what was necessary. Very good. That just goes to show that he knows where his loyalty lies. It is time for us to take full advantage of that. Do you know how Stark’s death was taken within their camp?”

Their camp? Whose camp is her son speaking of, she does not know. And then it comes to her, her son Tommen is fighting a war. A war against them. “It seems that they are putting the death of Lord Eddard Stark behind them Your Grace. And yet there are signs that the tension is beginning to show.” The eunuch says. “It seems there have been arguments between Robb Stark and Tommen Baratheon since the fighting at Oldstones. Very heated arguments that have lasted for a long time.”

“And what have these arguments been about?” her son asks his voice filled with intent.

“Stark’s bastard brother it would seem. Whilst others might not have seen who killed Lord Eddard Stark, it is rumoured that the bastard did the deed himself. Of course we know that he did indeed do the deed. And it seems that this is what they have been arguing over. Whether or not the bastard should be cast aside or not.” The eunuch replies

“The mere fact that they have not suggests that something is amiss here.” Cersei says speaking for the first time. “There is most definitely something missing here. They should have cast the bastard out. If anything Gerion would have been pushing them to do it once they received word of Stark’s death.”

Her son looks at her with something bordering on impatience. “I doubt it. Even if they know the truth, they are both still firmly attached to Jon. That is something that will be their downfall. He has shown with this act that he is my man and I intend to ensure that he does not go unrewarded for this.”

“The bastard willingly killed his own father. How can you be so certain he is trustworthy Your Grace?” Cersei asks her voice probing. “He might just as readily betray you and us as he did your brother, whom he was supposedly loyal to despite all else.”

Her son looks at her in anger then. His voice is calm though. “I know Jon will follow my orders now. It is the only way he can hope to remain safe. The act he committed will stain him forever more. He will want security and assurances and I can provide those to him in a way that my brother will never be able to do so.”

“How can you be so certain of that? You gave him what he wanted, what is there to say he does not just abandon you now? He has committed a most grievous of crime for you Your Grace. There will be more expectations beyond that which you gave to him already. More will be needed, more will be wanted.”

Her son looks at her, his eyes clouding with anger, and for the first time in a while, Cersei feels fear. “I know that mother. I know what he wants, and I know precisely how to give it to him. There is no need for you to worry. It shall all be taken care of in good time. There are other things that must needs be dealt with now. With Uncle Jaime’s death, Ser Kevan was left in charge of the siege of Riverrun, how has that progressed?”

The way her son so casually says her love’s name grates on her and makes her want to snap at him. But she holds her tongue and listens as the eunuch says. “It seems that whilst the fall of Ser Jaime caused quite a bit of chaos, some order was found under Ser Mors Rosby and those men he was able to lead in retreat managed to hold up the siege of Riverrun for a time, until the Stark and northern Riverlord forces arrived. There was a massacre there as well. It seems that Riverrun has been freed and Ser Kevan captured.”

Cersei finds that she does not care, all her thoughts are on Jaime, his body lost somewhere within the tomb that is Oldstones. She wonders if Tommen will send it to the Rock for burial or not. Her son probably won’t give a damn about it. Joffrey, her other son, her cherished son merely groans in frustration. “Another damned defeat. What happened to those men who were fighting under Ser Kevan’s command?”

The eunuch is silent a moment and then says. “It seems that some retreated back into the Westerlands, fading back into the mountains that they know so well, and some, well some bent the knee to your brother, Your Grace. It seems they were more willing to accept pardons than death.”

Her son bangs his hands on the table and growls. “Traitors the lot of them. I want their lands declared forfeit to the crown. They shall know my wrath when the time comes.” Cersei sees Pycelle making a note of this. And then her son’s attention is on her. “And where is your father? I thought he would have answered the summons straight away? His damned son is dead now, and yet he remains sat in that damned Rock of his. What is he doing? Waiting for winter to come?”

Cersei feels anger boil inside of her, her son is right, had her father not been hiding away in the Rock and done his duty to the crown Jaime would not have died, Jaime would not have needed to go to Riverrun or to Oldstones. Her anger makes her want to scream again instead she says. “I do not know Your Grace. It seems Lord Tywin has forgotten his oaths of fealty as well as the fact that he is your hand.”

Her son’s eyes expand ferociously and his voice is barely above a fierce whisper when he says. “That is unacceptable. Pycelle, I want you to send a raven out to the Rock today, reminding my grandfather of the oath he owes me, and the duty that he must do as my hand and my grandfather. Anything else and the death of his son will rest firmly on his shoulders.”

The maester nods, and Cersei want to leave now, she knows she will have to tell the imp, as much as she dislikes the dwarf, Jaime was still his brother as well. She goes to stand but before she can do so, Baelish is speaking. “Perhaps it would be wise for us to send word out to the Vale once more. I know Lysa can be quite tiresome, but with constant reassurance and a good word here and there, I know I can get her onside.”

Cersei looks at the man through narrowed eyes, suspicion making her question him. “How can you be so certain of that my lord? It has been nearly two years since last you saw her, and even then she fled without giving a true response as to why she did so. There are rumours she believes my family had her husband killed, what makes you so sure that she will come to fight for us just because you say so?”

The man gives her one of those infuriating smiles, and Cersei feels the urge to claw his eyes out. “Trust me my lady when I say that Lady Lysa will do as I ask. I have a hold over her that will make it very hard for her to say no to me. With the right persuasion and words I can make her bring the whole of the Vale behind King Joffrey. And in one fell swoop even the playing field.”

Before Cersei can voice her doubts, her son replies. “Do so. Send the raven today and if needs be you can leave for the Vale as well. Just ensure that the lady sends her men to our cause. We cannot have ourselves be out matched. Not with there being two other threats remaining within our noticeable reach.”

Cersei looks at her son weary and tired of this, and all she wants to do is go to bed. But instead she asks the question she knows her son is desperate to know the answer to. “What has happened with Lord Renly then Varys? Has he moved forward on what you were telling us of before or not?”

The eunuch seems to be deep in thought over his answer, before he eventually responds. “It would seem that Lord Renly has run into a few difficulties himself. His proposed course of action it seems has been met with some discord amongst the lords of the Stormlands and some lords of the Reach. Most noticeably, Lady Oakheart, Lord Rowan, and Lord Crane all of whom have removed Lord Renly’s banner and marched forth for Riverrun. It seems the man is facing lessening support as each moon goes by.”

Cersei smiles at this. “This must not be going down well with the Tyrells whatsoever, Mace Tyrell the great puff fish no doubt wants something to be done about this.” The eunuch nods and Cersei asks. “And has he?”

The eunuch shakes his head. “It would appear not. It seems there is a fear amongst the Tyrells and Lord Renly that any supposed action could lead to dire consequences for them and their cause. It seems the defection of Rowan has deeply affected Renly Baratheon’s confidence. Action they know must needs be taken and yet they are crippled by the sense that they are lacking the necessary means to do so.”

“How quickly can we set about further undermining his effort?” her son asks. “I do not want my uncle developing any more of a damned following than he already has. We were lucky to get Bracken and the Riverlords, but now, now we need more support.”

Cersei feels her interest begin to wane as she thinks of Jaime, his arms around her, his mouth on hers, his lips on her neck. She begins to sweat and she desperately wants to leave the small council chamber, only vague curiosity keeps her rooted to her chair. The eunuch is silent, but Baelish is the one who speaks. “There is a way we can get some of Renly Baratheon’s support. We must appeal to those lords who would feel as if the Tyrells would undermine him. We already hold the Redwyne twins hostage, there is nothing stopping you from summoning their father to court with his ships Your Grace. Doing so would bring a lot of power and wealth to your side and encourage others to join as well.”

There is something in the man’s eyes that makes Cersei pause for a moment, but any further thought is stopped when her son merely says. “See it done my lord. Now if there is nothing else that needs to be done this meeting is dismissed.”

Cersei allows herself to be carried off toward gods alone knows where, a hunger filling every part of her. She is desperate to sate this urge that has come about her, and when she finds herself standing before Lancel, she does not even stop she merely pushes herself onto him and begins kissing him and undoing his clothes. Desperate to fill the hole her love has left.


	49. Bloated Promises

**2 nd Month of 299 A.C. Summerhall**

**King Renly I Baratheon**

The war had begun, his nephews were fighting their battles, and destroying their forces. Oldstones, the carnage of Oldstones had reached them here at Summerhall, Jaime Lannister was dead, slain by Eddard Stark, and Stark himself was dead. That was a shame, for Renly had hoped that Stark might well have been able to counteract the negative influence of Gerion Lannister. Now, with Stark’s death, there was less chance that his nephew would come to negotiate. No doubt his nephew would try to push onward against the tide, and be thwarted because of it. Riverrun might now be in Tommen’s hands, but the Riverlands was a fractured realm, and one that would need a lot of hard work to fix, and that was something that Renly did not intend to give his nephew. He could not afford to do so.

The lords of the Reach had come forth from Highgarden, some eighty thousand strong, ready and armed for combat, and yet Renly was paralysed by a sense of fear. He did not truly know whether he was ready for the fighting that was to come. The tourneys were just an excuse to hide his fear and frustration. There had been border raids into the Riverlands, and yet, and yet, he did not know whether to progress or not. He looked at the lords gathered in the ruins of his great grandfather’s old hall and spoke. “We have a way to go yet my lords. Jaime Lannister one of the most feared warriors in Westeros is dead, and the Lannister army supporting my nephew the false king Joffrey is broken. And yet the war is not done yet. My other nephew, the false king Tommen sits in Riverrun, in holy ground, plotting and planning. We must move to remove him.”

Murmurs went up at this, and then Lord Caron a member of his Rainbow Guard spoke up. “We must march now. Already we have engaged in raids and skirmishes with Tommen’s forces. We know where some of his weaknesses are now, we must strike fast whilst there is still confusion.”

Renly looks at the man. “I appreciate the enthusiasm my lord of Nightsong, and yet one must remember that there is a difference between skirmishing and actual fighting. We must fight on our own terms when the time is right.”

“How will we know when the time is right, unless we move forward from here? Staying in ruins will make us into ruins.” The man says. Renly fears his own fears will come to the fore as some of the Stormlords begin murmuring their approval at Caron’s suggestion.

Ser Richard Morrigen a staunch ally and friend says. “We cannot move forward until Tommen has moved into terrain that is more favourable to us and our allies. The Brackens might have broken their word, but the Lychesters and the Whents have sworn themselves to the king’s cause. We have the backing of the Order of the Golden Flower as well, and that means the Stoney Sept is sworn to us as well. We have the men, we just need to bring the false king into our own conditions.”

“And how long will that take?” Caron asks. “It could take between a week to a year before Tommen Baratheon moves from Riverrun. Gods alone knows he will not move willingly. Sooner or later we shall need to expend our strength. Better to do it now when there is chaos in their camp.”

Lord Selwyn Tarth a man whom Renly had oft counted an ally spoke then in favour of Caron. “This must be the course of action we take. This is the only sensible course of action my king, surely you must see that? The more we sit here, the more we waste valuable time, where we could be gaining more steam for your cause. Tommen Baratheon has already taken men from Rowan, Oakheart and from Crane, he might well poach others if we are not careful.”

Mace Tyrell, his goodfather speaks then. “I do take offence at that. Rowan, Crane and Oakheart have always been traitors, they were the ones who urged me to continue supporting the Targaryens during the rebellion, despite their failed aims. There is no point in mourning their loss. Tommen Baratheon cannot rest easily knowing they fight for him.”

“Then what do you suggest my lord of Highgarden?” Lord Caron asks his voice loud out across the din. “That we do as you are so good at? Wait and see until our own resources have been bled dry, and our men are eager to return home. We came to fight a war, let us fight a damned war!”

“Mind your tongue Caron!” his goodfather snarls. “You are nothing but a stripling, brought forth by the king’s good graces. You are nothing more than what he has made you. We will do as the king commands.”

“And what the king commands is what you whisper in his ear!” Lord Tarth shouts, spit flying from his mouth. “You have asked him remain here waiting whilst your sons try to hide your own failings. It is time we act. There is no point in declaring war, when we do nothing but sit and wait.”

The hall bursts out into arguments then, as lords and knights from both sides begin spitting curses at one another, snarling insults as old age hatreds come spilling forth. Renly looks at it all and feels a sense of dread and fear well up inside of him, something he had long dreaded happening when he began making his first steps towards claiming the throne. As he watches it all erupt, it looks as if it is going to fall before his very eyes. He takes a deep breath and then in a voice that he learned from Robert, he roars. “Enough!” the hall falls silent then as all look at him. “Enough. We are not here to fight amongst ourselves. We are here to ensure that there is unity amongst the realms. For too long have we been divided, now is not the time for such petty rivalries to come forth once more. The Lannisters are our enemies. Them and their puppet kings, we must defeat them.”

“Then pray tell why we sit here, feasting on food, whilst the fighting is done for us? Where is the glory in that, where is the pride in standing tall amongst our peers when all we do is hide and cower like girls?!” the big muscular Ser Donnel Swann bellows. “I say we march out right now and fight them. Are we men or are we women?” the man bellows.

A chorus of approval follows the man’s shouts. Lord Ralph Buckler snarls. “We must stand and fight. Cowering here in this dragon ruin will bring us nothing but woe. Let us take the fight to the enemy. That is how King Robert would have done it.”

Renly feels his patience begin to wear out at this. “Aye, that is what my brother would have done, and yet my brother is dead. Killed by his own impetuousness and Lannister greed. I shall not rush into something when the playing field is not yet quite clear. There are things that must be done before we can ensure that we can make a move that will ensure victory.”

“What things are those Your Grace?” Lord Tarth asks. “Eddard Stark is dead, Jaime Lannister is dead. Two of the enemies’ main commanders are gone, we have the advantage. We must strike now, or risk losing the advantage.”

“Advantage? What advantage do you speak of my lord?” Renly asks. “We have seen two battles so far yes, and they have been easy wins for Tommen yes, and yet that does not mean we can gain the strength to suddenly beat them. Raiding and skirmishes are the best course of action for now with regard to Tommen. They weaken his outer strength and ensure that he is left to stew. His grandfather no doubt plans for revenge, he has made an enemy there, as for King’s Landing, it is there I mean to threaten.”

There is silence then, complete silence. Even his goodfather looks surprised. “My king? Is that a wise move? King’s Landing is a strong place of defence, and there are men within the city who would not surrender even for the gold we have to offer them.”

Renly looks at his goodfather and then sighs. “Aye, it will be a risk, and yet as my lords have just said, we must take risks. I will not waste time focussing on someone who is content to look toward the riverlands, King’s Landing is where the main game of action shall take place, and it is there that I mean to go toward.”

There is silence and then Lord Ralph speaks. “That is madness my king! King’s Landing is all good, but Tommen Baratheon is the main threat, not the city. The city can be taken eventually and yet Tommen will not go away, he will remain there waiting to hit us in the rear.”

Renly bangs his hands down on the table. “Enough. My decision is final. If you want war, I shall give it to you, but we shall march for King’s Landing, I will not bother dealing with my insolent little nephew. He will come round once I have what he wants the most. Now I must take my leave, there are other issues I must see to.” With that Renly stands, his face flushed with wine, and his head pounding. He walks slightly unsteadily back to where his tent is, Loras and others following him. He dismisses the others and walks into his tent with Loras accompanying him. He falls onto the bed with a sigh. There is a moment’s silence and then he says. “That did not go well.”

Loras lies down next to him and says. “They were wrong to question you as they did my love, you are doing what you think is right. King’s Landing is the right plan of attack, let Tommen waste his forces away on raids and skirmishes. Their camp will be a complete mess right now.”

Renly sighs looking at his love. “I do not know. My nephew is strong, he will overcome this blow, and especially with that cur Gerion whispering in his ear, gods alone know what he is going to do. Perhaps it would have been better had I agreed to their course of action.”

Loras turns on his side. “You are the king, you must do what you think is best my love. You cannot allow the others to sway you. If you allow them to sway you, then you are nothing but their puppet, dancing to their tune. Perhaps it might be better to sit and wait?”

Renly snorts. “That is something that your father would undoubtedly like me to do. Until I put a babe into Margaery. He would want me to sit and wait for this whole bloody war to end. I cannot do that, my lords will not respect me for it.”

Loras looks at him. “What do you want Renly? Do you want to be king? Or do you want the respect of lords who already respect you?”

“I do not have their gods damned respect Loras! You saw them out there today, I am nothing to them. I am only the younger lesser version of my brother, and even then I am not Tommen. Perhaps this was all a mistake. Perhaps I should have declared for him!” Renly says frustrated.

“You do not mean that! You cannot mean that! You, yourself said what would become of the realm if Tommen sat the throne. Only more Lannister presence and greater debt. Gods alone know what the realm would be like if further allowed. You must be king to bring about the change needed to make Westeros great again!” his love protests.

Renly sighs and goes to speak, but before he can the flap to his tent opens and he and Loras both sit up. Loras’ brother Ser Garlan stands there looking tired and angry, but he says what news he has all the same. “There has been word from the border, it seems Tommen Baratheon is moving out to fight us here.”


	50. Summerhall

**2 nd Month of 299 A.C. Stormlands**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

He had been crowned before they had set out from Riverrun, his uncle placing the crown of his father King Robert Baratheon on his head, the stag crown fit snugly on his head, and he had felt a rush of pride as the crown had been placed atop his head. With that feeling had also been a tinge of sadness, sadness that Lord Eddard, the man who had all but raised him was not here, that he had died. That was something that still wracked him with guilt, something that was worsened when he looked at Jon, it only made him angrier and determined to see Joffrey slain. He wanted to remove the bastard from the world himself, there was nothing he wanted more, he wanted Joffrey dead, for he knew that then, and only then could they truly have peace. Of course his uncles remained a threat, his uncle Renly, the ponce had crowned himself in Storm’s End and as such had been gathering steam, though from the prisoners they had captured from their skirmishes on the border, it seemed his uncle did not have complete control over his bannermen. And then there was his uncle Stannis, who remained sat in Dragonstone, doing the seven knew what.

There had been talk of heading into the west, and yet Tommen knew it was better not to provoke his grandfather into acting for Joffrey. Already he was on edge about the fact that Uncle Jaime was dead, and the fact that his grandfather had done nothing. Gods alone know what his grandfather was doing, and yet Tommen was not willing to remain sat in Riverrun, allowing for the odd border fight. He wanted to remove his uncle Renly from the fray right now, and so he had called a war council and they had discussed their plans until they were all blue in the face. From there they had moved onward, the Stormlands had come into view only two days ago, and then they were into the harsh land of his father, and grandfather. Tommen looked at the sprawling army behind him, his most trusted men, Robb, Jon, Ser Arys and uncle Gerion riding by his side. He was determined to end this foolishness with his uncle Renly now, he would destroy the man and end it.

The armour his father had given him for his nameday felt snug around his body. It seemed his father had known what he was doing when he gave him the replica suit of the armour worn at the trident. There had been whispers amongst his men as he had mounted his horse a few days ago, some had been calling him the raging storm come again, and that, he had to admit was something he was very proud of. Brightroar was strapped against his back, the sword gleaming in the sunlight. A feeling of destiny was enveloping him now, he knew that victory was soon to come. There was not a chance his uncle could stand against him, not now, not with the men of the north and the vale riding with him. Not with the supposed discontent he was facing from his lords. As he rode, he looked at his lion, Durran, who was a mighty size, the lion was chasing Ghost and Greywind down the ground as they rode, and Tommen smiled at the sight. It was good, a refreshing thing to be able to do, for there was much tension within him.

He finds his thoughts turning toward Sansa, safe and sound in Winterfell, his beautiful wife. Gods he misses her. He hopes that soon enough this war will be over so that they might be in one another’s embrace once more. He has been meaning to write to her as of late, but has never been able to find the words to put down on to paper, the words that can truly describe how he feels. He does not want to scare her with the horrors of his nightmares, or of the battle field, and yet that is all he can think of. That and the guilt at making Jon do as he did. That is something that will not leave him, and the worry of what has become of Myrcella, there has been sighting of her for some time, and he worries that she has been killed or found by Joffrey.

Sighing, Tommen pushes those thoughts from his mind, it does no good to think on such things whilst riding to war. At the sight of men coming toward him and his men, he feels his heart begin to beat faster, raising a fist he calls for the party to stop, and he waits for the men to come toward them. As they come closer into view he is surprised to see the banners of Houses Tarth, Caron, Morrigen and Buckler, all prominent men for his uncle. As they stop before him, he hails them. “My lords, it is a surprise to see you here, I had thought to find you at Summerhall with my uncle?”

It is the old and ailing Lord Tarth who speaks. “Your Grace, forgive us for the delay in coming to you, but we rode as fast as we could. We have come to offer fealty to you, and to beg your forgiveness for our treason.”

“Why should his grace believe you? You went to Renly willingly enough, why you did that and then change your mind?” his uncle Gerion asks.

Tommen looks at his uncle and then at the lords before him. They look equally uncomfortable with the question, but Lord Tarth does not hesitate to answer. “We answered our liege lord’s summons, we thought he was going to declare for King Tommen. And yet he declared himself king, and began walking and talking with those damned roses. We realised the error of our ways. He stands and talks, but only air comes out.”

Tommen looks at the old man and then asks. “And why have you waited till now to come and join my ranks? You could have come at any point before now, and yet you have chosen now. Why?”

It is not Lord Tarth who answers, but Lord Buckler. “We have come now, because we have more valuable information to provide Your Grace, than we would have done had we come beforehand. We know the tensions within the false king’s camp, and we also know who the true power behind him is.”

Tommen looks at the man a moment and then says. “We all know the Tyrells are pulling my uncle’s strings. There was never any doubt about that. But where are his weaknesses?”

There is a moment’s silence as the lords before him look at one another, and then Lord Caron speaks. “His lords are fighting amongst themselves, either vying for his favour, or trying to ensure that he is never allowed out of Summerhall. The fat flower, Lord Tyrell would keep him in Summerhall until such time that he has gotten that woman with child.”

Tommen snorts then. “And we all know that is never going to happen. And yet this is all information I already know, so please, pray tell me what you are actually offering me that I do not already have?”

There is a moment’s silence and then Ser Morrigen speaks. “We have come to offer our swords, and our men. They are waiting here, within sight of Durran’s Rock. Renly’s host is gathering near Elenei’s mount. They know you are coming, and yet they have not begun preparations for the fighting to come.”

Tommen looks at the lords before him, and then turns to look at his uncle and at Robb. “An interesting bit of information, but how do I know you are not lying to me? It would be in your benefit to do such a thing. There is a time and a place for such things, but for now I need proof that you speak truthfully.”

A brief silence follows this, and then Lord Tarth speaks. “Come with us Your Grace, and see for yourself the truth behind our words.”

Tommen shakes his head. “No. If you are as loyal to me as you claim, you will begin the assault for me right now. Ride back to your men, turn them around and assault my uncle’s host. If your men die, then they die fighting for their rightful king. If they do not die, and if they do not fight Renly and his men, then I will butcher each and every last one of you.”

He looks at Jon then who merely nods. There is a silence then, then Lord Tarth speaks. “We shall do as you ask Your Grace. Come my lords.” With that they bow their heads and then turn their horses and go galloping back toward where their men rest.

As he sees them ride into the distance, Tommen speaks. “What do you make of their supposed new loyalty?”

His brother in arms Robb, the new Lord of Winterfell speaks. “I think it is genuine Your Grace. We have always known Renly was never enough to hold the might of the Stormlands together. The roses will be his downfall.”

His uncle Gerion speaks then, a note of caution in his tone. “If they were truly genuine in their support, they would have joined you straight away. I would be cautious of them Your Grace. If they do as you ask, then you might begin to trust them, not otherwise.”

Tommen nods and then looks at Jon, who has remained quiet throughout all of this. “And what do you make of this Lord Jon?” his friend being granted the Lordship of Stonehedge following Oldstones, not something that could ever make up for what he has done, but something that might begin to repair the gap inside them.

His friend is silent a moment and then he says. “I think we should trust them Your Grace. We would know if they were lying. The wolves and Durran would know.”

Tommen nods. “Well then, we are decided, let us move forward and wait by the rocks of Old, and if they are true then we shall soon see It.” with that he raises a mailed fist into the air and then their march begins once more. The march of thousands of armoured men begins, and Tommen feels his heart settle into a steady rhythm, his contentment soon begins to fill into energy as they arrive at the rocks, steep and jagged, they are just as his father had once described. They come to a stop, and then the waiting begins. It stretches on through the silence, the wind whipping through their force, sending their banners to blowing within the wind. His heart begins to beat quicker, Sansa fills his vision, her hair, and her smile are what he sees before he hears the shouts of men, the screams of the dying. Looking briefly at his uncle, he nods and then roars a command. “Men of Westeros, we ride to glory!” he raises a fist and then spurs his horse onward onto the scene of the battle.

They arrive at the scene of chaos, the ruins of Summerhall in the background, Tommen draws his sword as Durran roars, and Greywind and Ghost howl. The enemy looks up toward them and their deaths come on the back of howling northmen, and the wrath of the Riverlords. Tommen cleaves through the first man to come into his path, Brightroar singing as it does so, he roars triumphant, and then on they go. Swinging his sword, cleaving through the enemy, slashing, thrashing, biting through the holes in their defence, Tarth and his fellow lords have done their job well. The enemy looks disorganised, a state of dishevelment, he gets a sense of satisfaction knowing that soon enough with luck Highgarden will have fallen as well. The push moves forward, death comes on screaming wings and a lion’s roar.

The enemy pushes back, swinging and roar their oaths of allegiance to Renly, the false king, the pretty king, and it grates on his nerves. Tommen swings his sword, and feels his armour groan under the weight of blows dealt and blows received. It is a constant cycle, and one that fills him with fire. He swings his sword, cleaving through the men that come, whilst taking a battering himself. Those that he does not kill, are finished by either Durran or one of the wolves. It fills him with a sort of savage pleasure knowing that his uncle’s allies are dying, they are being killed whilst his uncle hides like a girl.

Surging forward, Tommen feels his blood heat, just as it did at Oldstones, he feels anger grow within him. Men carrying an assortment of banners are cut down their knights killed at the same time. Tommen is scanning the field for his uncle, but finds none there that remind him of his uncle. Frustrated he growls, and Durran roars. The surge continues, onward through the push they go, Tommen cleaving men as they come, his armour denting in several places, his blood is still up and his heart is pounding. And then he sees him, a man dressed in green armour those ponce knights of his fighting at his side. Tommen roars and charges toward him, his men following. He cuts down one man, and then another, and then another, his uncle coming into his sights, when he hears a horn being sounded.


	51. The Lady Doth

**2 nd Month of 299 A.C. The Eyrie**

**Lady Lysa Arryn**

Her mind was awash with worry, there were shadows everywhere, the threats of those savages that were her son’s bannermen lurked within the recesses of her mind. She could see them now, plotting and planning, doing those things they would never have dared to do had her husband been alive. And yet her husband was dead, slain by her own hand, she had cried into his wine and watched with glee as he had been destroyed, just as he had destroyed her. All those children, their children, gone and buried, given to Alyssa’s tears. She did not know whether she wanted to laugh or sing. She had done as her love had asked, she had remained silent throughout the pleas for help, and now, now she was beginning to hear the murmurs of discontent. It seemed her lords would not stand for remaining out of the fighting.

Always there was trouble for her, there was nothing that was easy. Not like it had been for Cat, never like it had been for Cat. She was least loved of her siblings, her father and mother had always preferred Cat, and then when Edmure had arrived, she had been shunted away like a piece of cloth that was no longer wanted, no longer necessary. She had gotten her revenge though, her love had given her that chance, that chance to see to it that her father and Cat never took that with which they thought might ruin her. They had tried to make her have the tansy, but she had refused, she had thrown it away when she had the chance, and when the time came she had done as she needed to do, and given birth to a child, but the child had gone, disappeared within the night only to be found again when her husband was away serving the oaf of a king.

The child was strong and healthy, her husband had never known of the child, and yet Lysa had and her love did. And now they were planning to reveal him to the world. As she looked at her child she speaks softly. “Tell me what word you bring from the capital.”

The child, almost a man grown is silent for a moment and then says. “Lord Baelish has begun making the moves that he spoke to you about my lady. The Lannisters believe he is working for them, and as such they are not keeping as stringent an eye on him as they normally do. The Graftons and the Corbrays are preparing themselves and their men for the fight to come.”

“And what of Petyr himself? Does he say when he will be able to come home soon enough?” she asks.

The child looks at her a moment and says “He says that he will be able to come soon enough. There are just a few more things that need to be done with regards to his own part in this game my lady.”

Lysa pouts then. “Why is he taking so long to come home? He said he would be home by now, and yet still he remains within their clutches. Why won’t he come home?”

The child looks at her askance, and she feels his anger when he says. “Because he has many things that need to be done my lady. There are many loose ends that need to be shut off, and there are various tasks that he still needs to do.”

“What tasks? The Lannisters only use him as a damned money lender, they do not know his true worth. Not like I do. That is what must needs be understood. He should come home to the people who love him and care for him.” Lysa snarls.

She sees the child tense then. “You left many things open ended when you fled my lady. Lord Baelish has to sort those things out. There is not much more that can be said about that. When you left King’s Landing, there was much and more that needed to be sorted out. If he spends his time sorting them out, then it is on you that he is not here.”

Lysa feels her own anger boil at this. “You do not dare speak to me like that! You are merely a child. Nothing more. You cannot hold me to account, you are nothing. Everything you are, I gave you. You are nothing, do you hear me?”

The child gives her a look of absolute disgust then, and Lysa feels anger and fear coil inside of her. “I am what you have made me my lady. All that I am is because of you, and that includes the very words I am saying, for they are what you, yourself are thinking. Do not try to deny it, for I know what is within you.”

“Lies!” she yells, her heart thumping in her chest. She will not be spoken to by a child. “You cannot speak to me like this. I am the Lady of the Vale, I rule these lands and my word is law! You will consider how you speak to me, and you shall watch your tongue before any more of your filthy lies come sprawling out.”

The child gives her a look of pure disdain then. “You speak as if you know your own mind. But truly I do not think you do. You have not known your kind since the day you heard Lord Baelish speak another’s name during your love making. That destroyed you my lady. And now, now you are nothing but his pawn.”

“No.” Lysa whimpers. “You do not speak the truth.” She fears the words that the man says, she fears that what he is saying is true. She cannot deal with it now, not now, not when Sweetrobin is doing so well and their chances of a good life are so steadily increasing.

The child snorts. “You think you are in control of yourself, but truly, truly you have been dancing to his tune since the day you confessed your love to him. You are nothing but a pawn in his game. You know that is the truth.”

Lysa looks at the child horrified, why does he speak such lies, this child of theirs, this child that was supposed to be perfect in every way. “No! I will not stand for this! I will not allow you to stand here and slander me. What would your brother think? Why would you say such things, you know they are not true.”

The child looks at her askance. “Do not try to fool me, my lady. You know that the words I speak are truths. You blind yourself from the reality. All that has happened since you brought that man to King’s Landing has been because of you. Your husband’s death, the illnesses that have plagued you and your son, the war that now threatens to tear the realm apart. The near attempt on your nephew’s life. All of this rests on you.”

Lysa puts her hands on her head. “No! Lies!” she screams. “You speak lies! I should have your tongue cut from your mouth, for spreading such filth. Why are you here, you cannot be working for Petyr if you would speak such things. You must be working for someone else. Are you working for my sister? Is that what this is?”

The child merely grins and says. “If that is what you wish me to be, then that is what I will be my lady.”

“What do you mean? Why are you speaking in riddles? Speak honestly damn you! I am your mother” Lysa screams

The child merely grins. “I am what you have made me my lady. All your fears, all your hate, all your lies, this is what I have become. This is the truth you do not wish to face, the lies and the greed. This is all I am.”

Lysa looks at the child horrified, she feels like tearing her hair out, but she knows that will not work, her heart is thumping, her chest feels like it will explode, gods she does not know what to do. A long time passes, so it seems, before she whispers. “What do you want from me?”

The child says nothing for a long time before eventually speaking in a very soft voice. “I want, only what you want my lady. For I am you, and you are me. We are not two separate people, we are one and the same.”

Lysa looks at the child confused. “What do you mean? How can you be me and I be you? That does not make sense.”

The child does not say anything for a long time, and then when it does reply it merely says. “Tansy my lady, Tansy.”

“No!” she screams. “I did not drink the tansy. You are my son, my firstborn son. The tansy was not drunk.” She screams as she sees the child’s face begin to disappear, to be replaced by a rotting skull and the smell of that hated drink. Gods she despises it, she screams and screams and yet nothing happens, her child does not come back to her.

She feels a hand touch her back and turns round, the remains of her child are there looking at her, a black toothed grin on his face. She screams and begins clawing away at the face, before strong arms hold her back. She struggles screaming to be let go and then a voice whispers in her ear. “It is alright my love, I am here now. I am here.”

Lysa turns round in the arms of the man holding her back and sees her love there, his eyes glinting with reassurance. “Petyr?” she whimpers. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, I have come home my love. To rule together as we always said we would.” Her love says.

Lysa begins crying then. “Gods Petyr it was so frightening, so very frightening. I did not know whether or not you would come.”

“I know my love,” her love says. “I know, but rest easy now. For I am here. I am here and I will protect you and our children now.”

“Our son has gotten unruly my love,” she whimpers. “He threatened me.”

“Did he now?” she hears her love ask. “Well he must have learnt well then.”

“My love?” she questions, and then she feels the knife at her back and the sweat begins to turn into blood.

“I never wanted you, you useless whore. I only wanted Cat.” She hears and then the knife is plunged into her back.

Screaming as her life flashes before her, Lysa twists and turns and darts and ducks. But gods does it hurt, her heart has been ripped from her before, but never in this manner, never like this. by the gods does she want to scream, to let out all her frustration. But now there is nothing left to her, nothing but the absolute despair that comes from knowing that this is not a dream. Gods she has been such a fool, such a gods damned fool. As her breath leaves her, she wonders who will look after Sweetrobin, and then she realises that her robin is gone, dead, slain by that fool Brune, and now she screams anew. There is nothing left for her, nothing left at all.

Someone is shaking her, and she does not know why they would shake a dead woman, and she goes to protest, but they do not stop. They keep shaking her until she is forced to see what they want, and when she does, she finds four pairs of eyes looking at her concerned. She feels a wetness inside her, and knows something wrong has happened. “What?” she asks. “What has happened?”

She does not know where she is or who these people are, her chest hurts and there is a deep wetness inside her, but a voice says. “Word has come back from Runestone my lady. Yohn Royce has rescinded his oath of fealty and has declared war against us for siding with the Lannisters.”

Lysa blinks and then the words of her child come to her. “Call the men. We shall kill him now.”

 


	52. An Oath

**2 nd Month of 299 A.C. Summerhall**

**Jon Stark**

The battle was chaos, absolute chaos. There were men thronging through the sides, slashing and cutting, trying to push their way through the masses, trying desperately to kill one another. Jon felt the heady rush of battle, the feeling that something was coming forth, smashing through the façade he had built up. Going through the feelings of angst and hate, and chaos that he had felt ever since Oldstones. He had done as asked, he had done what was necessary, but he had not liked it. He did not like this feeling, this feeling of helplessness that had engulfed him from start to finish. He resented it and wanted to be rid of it, and so he swung his sword, and roared a challenge as Ghost tore through many of the enemy that came through the pass. Jon was determined that before the signal needed to be shown he would get his anger out. These men, these knights of summer who fought for Renly, they were not the true threat, they were nothing, absolutely nothing. They were merely the fools who had chosen the wrong side. They would be brought down and destroyed. Jon was certain of that, he knew Tommen did not want to allow these fools to continue living and yet they would, for there were parts for them to play.

Jon swings his sword, cleaving through the enemy, slashing and hacking. Cutting, ducking and dodging, determined not to fall prey to the mistake that might well have come through for his father. He swings his sword, seeing Joffrey’s face, determined that for every man he kills or fights during this battle, he will give Joffrey a dozen more painful deaths. The memory of his father’s eyes, turning white as they disappeared from life haunts him, it cripples him sometimes, turning him inside out. Only the memory of Joy, and her smile and her laugh that is all that makes him able to stomach the constant churning. The constant feeling as if there is something trying to rip itself out of him. He knows where he stands now, he is not Joffrey’s man, the bastard is too much of a stranger to him, too much of an enemy. A stranger in a friend’s clothing. Something about him makes Jon crawl inside. There is not enough that could be done to wipe the stain out of him. He swings his sword and watches as another man falls by the way side. The charge continues, through the ongoing strife, Jon feels his heart hammering. His senses are aflame, he does not know whether or not he is willing to bend or break. He does not want to. He knows Tommen needs him to be strong, Robb needs him to be strong he has shed enough tears for his father. He will continue fighting, through the stares of the men, and through his own grief, he will fight, and he will not stop fighting until Tommen sits the throne that is rightfully his. The ground convulses around him, men begin falling to their knees, screaming for relief, some desperate to find relief in the cool release of death, others pushing through, fighting for another day.

The chaos continues, Jon, his mind fraught with anger and frustration, slashes his sword, and slings his mind and anger into his swings. There is no time for thinking on things that have passed, he knows that lesson as well as anyone. And yet there is still a part of him that groans with the constant dullness of it all. The sign has not yet come, the king still fights within the fray, and so Jon waits for the time to come, his mind still sharp despite the urge to dull it. He continues swinging his sword, slashing and swinging, clutching to the anger, the anger at Joffrey, at his father, at the world, it is what fills him with the desire to make sure he does not stop until all those who stand before him are dead. There is a part of him that recognises the futileness of this, he knows that there is something of him that might not be able to truly bring this about. To end this constant suffering, the struggle to maintain some form of patience and life. He wonders if that part of him died with his father. He is not entirely sure, and yet there is some part of him that thinks, that hopes that the good inside of him is not dead, that he is not merely an instrument of war. That is what frightens him, he knows it frightens the king as well, they are two souls who are struggling with the burden this war is enacting on them, the pain of knowing they are causing it all to go on. Robb, his brother, continues to remain aloof, fighting to ensure Princess Myrcella has a chance to return safe and sound. Gods alone knows where she is, but still Robb fights on like a man possessed. Jon cuts through another man, his mind whirring, he does not know whether or not he can stomach this. This constant feeling of being led by the throes of despair, he wants to end it, but he does not know how.

The horn that Ser Gerion had given him before the war weighs heavily on his side. He knows that soon enough the time will come to blow the horn, and yet he fears that when that time comes he will not be able to do it, for the lust of battle still remains strong within him. Gods know that he might well break down before he can do so. The king seems in no hurry to follow the plan, giving himself over to the lust of battle, as Jon knows he must have been itching to do. It seems only Robb has remained unaffected by the ravages this war has wreaked on them so far, and Jon wonders if that is because his brother still has hope of finding Myrcella. Gods knows Jon and the king could fight for some more hope, but it hurts and aches being so far away from their loved ones. Jon knows he suffers through this ordeal, but the weight of what he has done does not weigh so heavily on him as it could, his father gave his blessing, and yet, and yet there is more that aches and chips away at him. Jon hears a roar, as the king goes charging toward whom they all think is Renly Baratheon, the king’s lion charging off with him, and this being the signal, Jon sheathes his sword and pulls out the horn and blows, a deep primal sound. Silence follows and then another horn sounds, and another horn sounds. A chorus of horns sound out across the battlefield and the fighting stops as the men fighting recognise the deep inclinations of these horns and their meaning. Men stop their horses and pull on their reins. The king himself has stopped, and Jon knows that now is his time. Pulling the horn from his lips he puts it back into place and bellows. “Enough! Enough I say. Cease this fighting. We have shed enough of Westeros’ blood. Our kingdom does not need to cry anymore.”

There is a long moment of silence as all look at him and then another voice calls out. “We shall not stop fighting until the false kings are dead. Our king fights with the Seven calling out for him.”

Jon does not know how to respond to this and then he says. “We are fighting one another, when we should be fighting Joffrey the ill begotten. We must remember that. He is the one who started this war!”

“Why? Why should we fight for a boy who fights under Lannister and Stark influence, and has never seen the lands he wishes to rule?” another voice calls out.

Someone else shouts. “Because he is King Robert come again, come to smash all those who stand against him. Look at this battle, we are fighting for one cause or another, when the true threat lies in King’s Landing. The bastard ill begotten Joffrey must look and laugh at us!”

There is a long silence and then Jon says. “Look around you men of Westeros, see the ground and the bodies that cover it. Do you wish for this to continue, why should we suffer whilst the ill begotten sits in his castle and laughs at us? Let us reach an accord, before we fall down to our knees.”

Another long period of silence follows this and then the sound of horses are heard and Jon breathes a sigh of relief when he sees King Tommen and Lord Renly ride into the clearing. All look at them expectantly and then King Tommen says. “End the fighting now loyal men. We have come not to wage war, but to speak as King and Lord. Let us see where we can go from here. Our commanders are welcome to attend.”

Jon sees the king look at him then and nodding, Jon digs his spurs into his horse and follows the King, surprisingly Ser Gerion does not find them, though Tyrek does, as do Tywin Frey and Robb. They ride to the ruins of Summerhall, where they dismount and giving their horses to the grooms’ present walk toward a large tent, where inside they find the Lord of Storm’s End’s advisors in Lord Randyll Tarly covered in mud and blood, and Ser Loras Tyrell as well as Ser Richard Morrigen and Lord Roose Bolton already present. There is a moment’s silence and then Lord Renly speaks. “This battle was an unnecessary loss of life. It should have been avoided.”

Jon looks at the man who claims to be king, he is a weakling, nothing impressive compared to King Tommen. The king speaks then. “Then why did you rebel against me uncle? You know my father named me his heir. You know what Joffrey is like, what did you expect to happen? The roses could not protect you forever.”

Loras Tyrell advances forward then. “And you are a boy trying to be a man. Why did you stop the fight boy? Were you afraid you might lose?”

The king laughs and Jon snorts. “Afraid?” the king asks. “Why should I be afraid Loras Tyrell? You might have more men than I do, and yet you lost the loyalty of many of those men when you decided to go for King’s Landing. The roses have corrupted you uncle. Highgarden is under siege as we speak, and might well fall before the moon is over. Then what will you do?”

“Highgarden will not fall. It has never fallen before. There is nothing you can do that will make it fall. Willas will never capitulate to the likes of you.” Ser Loras snarls at the king.

“Your brother is a smarter man than you Ser Loras, you should be grateful he will do what is right.” The king says simply.

Before Loras Tyrell can speak further, Lord Renly speaks. “What are your terms Your Grace?”

A ripple of shock runs through the tent then, Jon looks at Robb and sees the same surprise he is feeling reflected on his brother’s face. Ser Loras protests. “King Renly, surely you cannot mean to bend the knee to this boy?”

At that Jon loses his patience and snaps. “This boy, is called Tommen Baratheon, the first of his name King of all of Westeros, and he was winning this battle until he decided to call for a negotiation. Now either say something useful or shut your mouth fool.”

Ser Loras looks angry, but Jon does not care. He looks at the king to find him grinning, the man is silent a moment and then he says. “My terms are as follows. Bend the knee to me, swear fealty to me as your king, commit your men to my force and cause, and fight alongside me to remove Joffrey from the throne. In return for this, I shall pardon you for your treason, confirm you as Lord of Storm’s End, and ensure your marriage to Lady Margaery stands, I shall even tell Lord Mathis to end the siege of Highgarden.”

Jon feels a slight tinge of unease at the silence that follows this, but eventually Lord Renly speaks. “I will do all of this, if you agree to name me your heir until a child is born to you and your lady wife.”

“Princess Myrcella is next in line for the throne should something happen to his Grace.” Robb barks.

Lord Renly looks at Jon’s brother then and says. “Where is my niece then? If she presses her claim then by the gods I will follow her, but she is not here. So Your Grace, what will it be?”

There is a long moment of silence and then the king says. “Very well, my terms remain the same, but I shall agree to name you my heir, until a child is born to me.”

Another moment’s silence as Jon feels his heart begin to beat quicker and then Lord Renly gets down on one knee followed by his advisors, his voice is level when he says. “I Renly of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, do hereby pledge fealty to you King Tommen Baratheon, King of All of Westeros, and do hereby recognise you as the one true king.” The Lord of Storm’s End’s men all follow his lead, and then the king helps his uncle rise from his position.

“Come then uncle, let us cease hostilities and begin speaking as allies.” The king says. As he leads his uncle away from the tent, Jon looks at Ser Loras and sees the hint of defiance in the man’s eyes, and he knows, he just knows that this is not over.


	53. PLots and Intrigues

**3 rd Month of 299 A.C. Summerhall**

**Lord Renly Baratheon**

Since his surrender to his nephew, Renly had felt so much lighter. There was less guilt, and less shame, he did not feel so burdened with the weight of what he was doing or what he had done. It was a nice release, truth be told. Though he knew Loras and the Tyrells did not approve of this, truth be told he did not care what they thought, he had spent far too long trying to pander to them, he had forgotten what it meant to be free, to be without a coil around his neck. Now, now he did not have to truly worry about certain things, without the weight of a crown, and yet there was a part of him that missed that weight, and he did still think he wore it better than his nephew did. He supposed that was why there was still so much tension in the air, as they sat and discussed their next move.

“We must move on King’s Landing and soon, otherwise Joffrey will have more than enough time to begin preparing for our coming. Right now he is stuck dealing with raiders, but soon enough there will come a time when they shall be gone. We must be at his gates by then.” Renly argues.

“Whilst leaving ourselves open to attack from the rear?” his nephew asks. “I do not think so. My grandfather might not have committed himself to any side just yet, but with our alliance, one might well think he would sense the end for his own time coming. He might still move out into the field.”

Renly sighs. “Do you truly think that Tywin Lannister would be fool enough to move out into the field for your brother now Your Grace? With our alliance we outweigh Joffrey and would have more than enough men to crush any force Tywin Lannister sends. We must move out now.”

His nephew is silent a moment and then says. “I rejected his offer to be named his heir, I rejected any sense he offered me. I have seen his son killed. Why would he not support Joffrey? He stands to gain more from supporting Joffrey than he does supporting me.”

Renly feels frustration begin to coil within him. “We must move out now, and face the consequence of Tywin Lannister later. All this dithering does us nothing. The siege of Highgarden is at an end, if you are so worried about your grandfather send Lord Rowan out into the Westerlands, gods alone know you are fond of using him.”

He cannot help the bitterness that creeps into his voice at that, and his nephew notices. “Rowan did what his king asked of him. You would not have seen such a thing happen if you had done as you should have. It was your decision to fight for the throne, a throne which is not yours.”

Renly feels something within him chafe at that. Loras speaks then. “Lord Renly did what was right. He was doing what he did to lessen Lannister influence. Something that you seem to not have considered…Your Grace.”

Renly groans internally at this, and sure enough Ser Gerion speaks then. “ A strange thing to say Ser Loras. Considering the fact that your own father was more than willing to bend the knee to King Tommen, and yet mentioned nothing of Lannister influence. Indeed, one might argue the influence of the roses is what forced your own lord to bend the knee. His own lords recognised the folly of their ways and change tact.”

That still grates on Renly, and despite the fact that Lord Tarth is dead as is Lord Caron, their betrayal still stings him. He forces down a retort, and yet Lord Tyrell does not. “I did what I thought most prudent for my house Ser. And yet one could argue that your own choices have been questionable. The way in which Ser Jon was used to lure the Kingslayer, was without honour.”

That was something Renly had been meaning to speak of. They had learned of how the Kingslayer and Lord Stark had died whilst camped out in Summerhall, that his nephew had used his friend and supposed brother in such a manner made Renly think of Ser Gerion. He can see by the way Tommen’s shoulders tense at this, that he too has not yet forgiven himself for that. And yet it is not Ser Gerion who speaks but Ser Jon. “What was done, was done for the greater good Lord Tyrell. It was necessary that such a thing be done, and here we are. This was not the focus of the conversation though, now was it?”

There is an air of tension then, broken when Lord Robb speaks. “We have a bigger issue to deal with. King’s Landing is standing before us, we must take it and soon, that much we all agree, the question is when. The recent reports we have garnered say that King’s Landing is facing its own troubles, is it possible we could force Joffrey to submit to our own terms?”

Renly laughs then. “You would have to be very naïve to believe that Joffrey or even his mother would willingly surrender King’s Landing. With or without an army, they are both too proud to ever surrender without a fight. We will need to take the city with sheer force.”

He sees his nephew grimace at this. “I would rather not use force, but if we must, we must.”

Of course at this point is when his goodfather decides to speak. “If we do march and take King’s Landing, I would rather not have Ser Jon within our force. A man who would so willingly deceive all those who fight alongside him, is not a man anyone can trust.”

Renly groans then but before he can speak, there is a growl and his nephew’s lion has stalked over and is staring threateningly at Lord Mace. “Jon did what was asked of him. He followed his king’s command. If anyone has any problems with that, then they must ask the question of themselves. How loyal are they truly to what is right, and what is actually for their own benefit.” His nephew says, his voice a growl.

The lion begins stalking toward Lord Mace, a clear sign of his master’s anger. Lord Mace looks terrified. “Of course Your Grace. I was merely saying that perhaps Ser Jon be kept within an easy reach, in case something must needs be done.”

The lion is growling so deeply that Renly can feel the rumble where he sits. His nephew’s expression is dark. “And what is that pray tell Lord Tyrell. I am very curious.”

Renly looks at Lord Tyrell, and he can tell the man is about to soil himself, an amusing sight, but not one that is going to them any favours. “Your Grace,” he begins, focussing his nephew’s attention on him. “I believe that what Lord Tyrell is suggesting, is that perhaps Ser Jon might be better served holding the reserve, or perhaps even the vanguard of our assault. For then he can best persuade King Joffrey of the role he might play.”

His nephew’s face changes, and Renly can tell there is a plan forming there, the lion seems to calm down a second, before returning to the king. “An interesting suggestion, and one that will be discussed at a later date. For now though, I presume we are all in agreeance that King’s Landing shall need to be taken by force?” there is a murmur of agreement then, and his nephew continues. “Very well, there is one other issue that must be addressed. That of my uncle Stannis. The man has not moved from Dragonstone during the course of this war, and I want to know why.”

There is a moment’s silence then and as Renly thinks over the matter, he does find it passing odd that Stannis has not come to their nephew’s aid. Stannis is not like him, his devotion to duty is something that most laugh at, and yet there is something about this that makes Renly wonder, is there something that the man knows that none of them know? Looking at his nephew, he wonders, and then dismisses that thought as preposterous. Eventually he speaks. “It is possible he is merely biding his time, waiting to see who emerges victorious in this war.”

There is a long moment of silence, and then. “That does not sound like Lord Stannis. The man’s devotion to duty is well known. That he has not come forth to offer support, is a most strange decision. One that is perhaps because of the red whore who serves him. She has been holding something over him for a long time now.” Ser Gerion says.

Renly wonders at this. “Do you truly believe a woman could have such an effect on Stannis? The man does not even seem affected by women.”

There is a knowing look in the man’s eyes as Renly says this, and a deep sense of fear begins filling him. The man then says. “This woman has a certain power to her, a power that might well be the reason for Lord Stannis’s silence during this war. We shall need to wait and see on that matter.”

Renly’s heart is hammering in his chest as Ser Gerion looks at him, the plot he had concocted when a crown still sat his brow beating within his memory, wondering whether or not such a thing might be happening right now. Had the man even left King’s Landing yet? He did not know, and suddenly he wonders just how much Ser Gerion knows about him. He is barely listening when his nephew says. “If that is all then let us depart for the night, there are other activities that must be attended to.” Renly stands with the others and as if on automatic response walks out of the tent back to his own where Loras joins him shortly after.

His lover is fuming when Renly looks at him. “How could you bend the knee to that man Renly? He is infuriating, and the bastard is even more so!”

Renly looks briefly at his lover before saying. “I did what was necessary. Tommen was destroying our forces.”

“He was not doing that! He was a mere inconvenience that could have been dealt with had you had the stomach to fight your own nephew!” his lover says.

His words get Renly thinking once more, but he tries to drive the thoughts from his mind. “I was not willing to sacrifice more of my men. They were already beginning to chafe.”

“A true king does not care about that. A true king stands and holds his ground. What happened to you Renly? You were not like this before!” his lover says.

Renly sighs then. “A King must be willing to make sacrifices sometimes. I am not willing to allow the crown get in the way of common sense my love. There are things that must be done first, my nephew must be convinced of my loyalty for a start, and as such your father’s foolishness will not help with that.”

“What of what you had planned? Is that even going ahead?” his lover asks.

Renly sighs once more. “Gods help me it is. And once it happens, we shall need to be ready.”

His lover kisses him fiercely on the lips then, and when he pulls away his eyes are heated when he says. “Then you must do your duty as a husband and a king. If this plan succeeds, you will need to be ready. You must sleep with Margaery and soon, otherwise all will be lost.”

Renly sighs. “I know that. Why do you think I have asked you father to get her? I cannot allow this to go on for much longer. There are things that must be done, and that is one of them.”


	54. Royce

**3 rd Month of 299 A.C. The Vale**

**Lord Yohn Royce**

That it had come to this, rebelling against the Eyrie, it was something he thought he would never do. In the days when Jon Arryn had been lord, such a thing would have been unimaginable, the man had had a solid hold over the Vale and had been a just man, even if some of his preferences were somewhat different. His wife and son though, well they were something else entirely. The woman was mad, quite clearly mad, to be siding with the people she thought had killed Jon, it was because of that whoreson Baelish, by the gods that man had gotten his hooks into Lady Lysa for so long now, Yohn was surprised that Jon had not seen this coming. And yet, the more he thought of it, the more he realised that he should not have been surprised. Jon often did not see what he did not want to know, it was his weakness, and now here they were.

Yohn looks at the men and woman gathered in the war tent, and he knows that there is no going back from this. They have staked their homes and their lives on this move, Harry must take the lordship and he must fight for it, otherwise they are all doomed. Clearing his throat to get the attention of those present he speaks. “We have made a brave decision in doing this my lords and lady. The Eyrie will be a difficult place to take, though with Grafton and Corbray and others marching forth and gathering in Gulltown one should not worry about that.”

There is silence for a moment and then Lord Lynderly asks. “Do you truly think that we shall win this war in Gulltown my lord? After all, there is more to the forces of the Vale than just us and Grafton. There are others who have yet to decide where they fall.”

Yohn considers this a moment and then says. “I believe the bulk of the fighting will be done in Gulltown. It is the place where Baelish has most of his contacts. Lannister gold can pay for much and more in Gulltown, it cannot do so elsewhere. If there is fighting to be done, it shall be done there.”

Lynderly looks at him a moment before speaking. “Then we might as well go in with our full force. For if Corbray and Grafton have marshalled men, then we can be certain there will be a vast host gathering within their walls. We cannot take it by dividing our forces.”

Ser Edmund speaks then. “We do not need to take the city my lord. We need only destroy the men fighting for Lysa Arryn. That way we ensure that the city is ours. The Shetts and the Gulltown Arryns will no doubt wish to side with us when the force opposing them is beaten.”

Yohn nods at this. “That is what I was thinking. It would make far more sense to beat whatever meagre host that Grafton and company have gathered, outside the walls, than engage with fighting inside the walls directly. That would not be within our interests.”

Lord Royce Coldwater speaks up then. “The Graftons might have coin, but honour must prevail in this instance. The men of the Vale know what King Robert decided, there is no soul here who would stand for Joffrey surely?”

There is a lot of murmuring then, and then Harry speaks, recently knighted the man’s voice is sure and confident when he speaks. “Joffrey is nothing but a boy trying to play at being King. King Tommen has won battles at Oldstones, and at Riverrun as well as at Summerhall. If anyone continues to support Joffrey then they are fools. We cannot tolerate fools.”

Murmurs of agreement go up at this, and then Yohn speaks once more. “From what our scouts say, the Graftons and the Corbrays will try to lure us into the city, we must ensure that they come out of their walls and into the land below. Only then can we ensure that they shall be beaten.”

There is more murmuring at that, and then the question is asked. “How do you propose we do that my lord? After all Grafton is a cautious man, and no matter what one wishes to say about the Corbrays they will not do anything to damage their investment in whatever venture they are pursuing. Something drastic must needs be done to ensure that this is done successfully.”

Before Yohn can speak, Harry speaks. “If I were to offer to decide the matter of the city by single combat, surely Corbray could not refuse?” there is a moment’s silence and then he continues. “I am the candidate being proposed as the new Lord of the Vale. Lyn Corbray we know is in those walls, he will want to fight me and prove his worth to his liege lady. This is a sure fire way to get the main army out of the city and into our line of sight.”

There is more murmuring at this. “My lord, surely you cannot be serious? Such a thing might well end badly for you, and then we shall all be left to pick up the remaining pieces. There must be some other way to get that snake Corbray out of the wood.” Lynderly says.

Yohn looks at his ward, and knows that the man will not be swayed, sure enough when he speaks his voice is determined. “It is risky, but so is what we are doing. There is only one way to know if we are going to succeed, and that is to try. Without trying we shall be waiting for a long time. We do not have all the time, King Tommen has asked for us to take the Vale for him, it is time we do as such.”

A long silence follows this proclamation by the young lord, and Yohn looks around the tent, he knows the men and lady gathered here are not sure what to make of this. They are uncertain of Harry, the rumours about his activities coming to be more apparent as time has worn on, but they have hope, and it is this hope, he knows that is keeping them from balking now. Eventually when he can take the silence no long, Yohn speaks. “Very well then, if you are sure of this my lord, and if no one has any objections let us get this under way.” With that the meeting comes to an end and a missive is sent out to Gulltown, requesting that the challenge be met. It takes some time but eventually, a response comes back in the positive and nerves begin to jangle within the camp. Yohn himself feels nothing but a calm certainty, Corbray will not come out himself, his brother and Grafton would not allow such a thing and so as he fixes his armour on, he merely says a prayer to the gods and then mounts his horse watching as Ser Harrold, soon to be Lord Harrold advances down toward the city below, looking every inch the lord.

Yohn remains on his horse for a time, watching as Lord Harrold rides down and waits outside the walls of Gulltown, there are archers close to the man, waiting for any sign of treachery from Gulltown, remembering what happened during the rebellion, Yohn is not going to take any chances. When the gates open and two men ride out, Yohn feels his hands tighten on the reins. Something is said between the three men and there is a sudden movement, and Yohn barks out. “Ride.” With that, the men begin charging down the hill, Harry has managed to injure one of the men but the other is fighting him intently. Something from his youth is playing in Yohn’s mind, distracting him slightly, and filling him with nervousness, the words his grandmother would say when she dreamed, Jocelyn Stark was never known to be wrong. As they gallop down the hill men appear from the city and the fight begins properly.

Yohn draws Lamentation from its sheath and begins the arcing dance he knows only too well. Swinging and slashing he hacks at the men that come toward him, cutting through them with rampant ferocity. Men come charging toward him no doubt intent on slashing him through and winning acclaim for themselves, yet he is not so easy to be killed and shows as such, cutting through men half his age, and besting those who should truly know better. He laughs as he swings his sword, hacking and slashing, cutting through those who would dare challenge him the Bronze Yohn. His father might have died during a war, but Yohn, Yohn has fought through and survived far more wars than anyone else could know, and he will not die, not today. The two armies clash with one another, and Yohn pushes through, swinging his sword, keeping one eye on his son Albar, gods alone knows where Robar is, and Waymar, well the less he thinks about Waymar the better.

The blood rush is upon him as it always is during battle. Swinging Lamentation, he knows that there is some part of him that is only whole during the fighting, and that it is coming against Joffrey Baratheon and Petyr Baelish, well that is only for the better. He will not allow such scum to rule him and his. He swings his sword and sees men fall before him, determined more than ever to ensure that they win. Gulltown will surrender and he will ensure it does, taking Gulltown will ensure that the false king in King’s Landing is without supplies, and he knows that will fetch a handsome reward from the king. Swinging his sword, he watches as blood begins to drip forth from it. Something within him is stirring, something primal, and decadent. He knows the urge, and he allows it to grow, allows it to overcome him, the beast inside comes to the fore.

The beast roars for more blood and so Yohn allows it to feed, slashing and swinging, determinedly cutting through the ranks of Corbray and Grafton men that come charging toward him. He looks for Corbray or even Harry, but he cannot find them and that is something that worries him. Should Harry die their cause will be in the air. He pushes through the crowd, swinging his sword, slashing and hacking. Determinedly making progress through the throng, something is going on, there is something wrong here, he can feel it in his gut. He does not know what it is, but there is something afoot. It makes him uneasy, and yet he can do nothing but continue the push through, to hope that nothing wrong happens now. He can tell they are close to victory, Grafton and Corbray are nothing for him and his allies to deal with. They are paltry in comparison to Yohn and the force he has mustered.

The crush continues through the battle, the beast seems somewhat sated, though Yohn knows that it will come to life once more later on. Men lie strewn on the ground, their eyes staring unseeingly into the sky, the blue turning red. Yohn can feel his own wounds beginning to ache underneath the bronze armour he wears, something about that makes him laugh. It has always been this way he thinks, since Jon’s second wife died, there was a tension, and the marriage to Lysa did nothing to cool it. It is almost sad he thinks, that it has come to this now, something that could have been avoided had Jon tried, but he never tried, not after Jeyne did, something about that destroyed whatever was left of him, and now this, this, is it all worth it Yohn wonders, and when he hears a roar, and the deafening crack of wood breaking, he looks up to see the walls of Gulltown closing in, and he knows, he just knows, then that there is more to come. He bellows a command and the final push commences.


	55. Desperation

**4 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Dowager Cersei Baratheon**

She was tired, so very tired. She did not feel whole, she had not done so since news had come of Oldstones. She wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Jaime was gone, her other half was gone and she did not know what to do with herself. Life had become meaningless to her, so very meaningless. Cersei wanted to give up, but something insider rebelled at the thought of ending her suffering now, she was a lioness not a fish, she would not give up now, no matter how much she wanted to. Joffrey was growing out of control, there had been riots that had ended with thousands dead, their bodies being used for some purpose Cersei did not even want to think on. The council sessions were growing shorter, and Cersei was sure that there was a time when her son looked mad. Something within her compelling her to do some reading of her own.

Today, the council members looked scared and haggard, her son was itching to kill them all she knew, why he hadn’t was anyone’s guess. “So you are telling me that my half-wit of a brother and my dunce of an uncle have combined forces and are marching here on my city?” her son asks his voice hard as iron.

“Yes Your Grace,” the eunuch says. “It appears there has been some discussion over whether or not it was worth the two armies fighting one another when they are both fighting to remove you from the throne.”

“And why am I only finding about this now, if as you say, the alliance occurred almost a moon ago?” her son asks.

“My sources have struggled to get out from the scrutiny of this war Your Grace. It takes time for information to become available and for it to be transported to here.” The eunuch says.

Her son growls. “That is not good enough eunuch. You are here to provide me with information not to simper excuses. If I wish to hear about why things are not going according to plan, I shall speak to my mother.”

Cersei feels anger grow inside her at the insult but says nothing, the eunuch looks stunned then. “Of course Your Grace, forgive me Your Grace.”

Her son ignores him then and turns to Baelish. “What word from the Vale Lord Baelish? Has the whore of the Eyrie been able to get what men she promised for our cause?”

Cersei is amazed that the master of coin can keep his face so emotionless, despite the heat of her son’s scrutiny, it is why she thinks there is something else going on inside that twisted mind of his. His voice is smooth when he replies. “It seems that she has faced opposition from within the Vale. Lord Yohn Royce has renounced his fealty to the throne and the Eyrie and is fighting to put Harrold Hardying on the Falcon throne as Lord of the Vale for your brother. There have been two battles so far within the Vale, both of which have seen victories for the rebels. It is something that is concerning.”

Her son groans then. “We cannot fight this damned war on two fronts. Mother, has there been word from grandfather? Surely the old fool must know that with Tommen advancing on King’s Landing, any chance he has of gaining influence is waning?”

Even though her son is trying desperately to keep his voice normal, she can hear the tone of desperation within his voice. Sighing she says. “I do not pretend to know what my father is doing Your Grace. For all we know he could be marching out from the Rock as we speak preparing to assault Tommen in the rear. Or he could be sat within the Rock waiting for all of this to calm down.” the bitterness she has been feeling for some time wells up then. “More than likely whatever it is that he is doing, he will do it to benefit himself.” There is a paus then, and then she says. “Perhaps it might be time to come to terms with your brother, Your Grace? We cannot keep fighting this war for much longer, and there are other threats on the horizon.”

Her son’s eyes glimmer in anger then. “I will not end this fighting, just to speak to my traitor of a brother. He is rebelling against his rightful king. I will have his head on a spike before I ever try to speak with him once more. As for the Targaryens, they are no threat. They are homeless wanderers who have been threatening to do nothing but die for the past twenty years.”

“Her Grace, does speak some sense Your Grace.” Pycelle says speaking softly. “Prince Tommen is fighting with gaining steam, we are losing our men by the day. There is not enough strength to fight him and the Targaryens should they deign to come forth from Essos finally. Then there is Lord Stannis to consider, there are some things that must be done to deal with him.”

Her son looks at the old man with anger then. “I will not speak to my fool of a brother. There are plans, plans that must be put into place and they shall be done before I even consider speaking to my brother. He is a traitor, not someone worth speaking to.”

Cersei sighs. “The Stark bastard has betrayed you Your Grace. His continued ignoring of your missives shows that he is not going to do as you thought he would do. I have said it once, and I have said it many times before, there is nothing more that can be done about it. Cut your losses and ensure that you are no destroyed by him.”

At this a mad grin spreads across her son’s face. “Jon has not betrayed me mother. He is coming to King’s Landing with men he has taken from Tommen’s army. He has come to make the ultimate pledge of honour to me. His service will ensure that Tommen fails in his approach.”

Cersei feels something akin to shock build inside her. “How can you be so sure?”

Her son grins once more, a sight that Cersei saw once before, many years ago in the court of the mad king. “Because he has come to make the final sacrifice. The final sign that his oath to me is sacred and dutiful. He will do this and then all that he has ever wanted will be his for the taking.” Before she can question him on this her son speaks once more. “There are some things only a king can know mother. As for the rest of this meeting, leave now before I have you all thrown into the black cells.”

With that there is a great hastening of chairs being moved and people moving quickly out of the chamber. Cersei sees her son sitting there, an empty pitcher of wine by his side, and she wonders whether or not the curse of their family has come to affect him. She turns round and walks out of the room, as she does so she hears a voice say. “Your Grace, if I might speak with you?”

Turning round she sees the old Grand Maester hobbling toward her, sighing, Cersei says. “Of course Maester, to what might I aid you with?”

The Grand Maester is silent a moment, as he catches his breath and then he says. “I am worried about the king. His behaviour has become most erratic. And these threats he has been making as of late? They are not normal Your Grace.”

“He is under a lot of pressure. What more do you expect from a young man such as he?” Cersei replies, trying to move on and fight the feeling that the old man is right.

“Your Grace, this is not good. Already there is a strong division within court. The lords and ladies of the court are wondering whether or not the King is falling into madness. The last time such a thing was wondered, there were three attempted uprisings. King Joffrey cannot afford such a thing, not with Lord Tywin remaining within Casterly Rock, he does not have the means to crush such a thing.” The maester says.

Cersei turns to him, her ire rising. “And why is it that my lord father has not ventured from his Rock to aid his grandson and rightful king? Have you not been sending those missives?”

Pycelle looks at her and squirms. “I have Your Grace, but it is not for me to decide whether or not Lord Tywin does come forward or not. He does as he pleases. Surely you know that?”

Cersei feels her anger begin to get the better of her. “Of course I damned well know that. The man has been nothing but a pain in my side since the day I married the damned man he wanted me to. He will do as I say or he will face the consequences.”

Pycelle looks at her, his face filled with doubt. “Do you truly think such a move is wise Your Grace? After all, Lord Tywin could well turn the tide of this war to Prince Tommen’s favour, especially if he should come to know of certain secrets that were kept from him.”

Cersei feels her heart begin to beat rapidly then. “Are you threatening me?” she asks the man.

Pycelle does not bend then, but instead juts his chin out defiantly. “I would never dare to do such a thing Your Grace. I am merely suggesting that trying to force Lord Tywin into action might not be the smartest course of action.”

Cersei wishes she could throttle the man, but instead she asks. “What do you suggest then? If my father does not stir himself then things will only go from bad to worse, you know how Joffrey is, you know what he wants to do. We cannot allow this.”

Pycelle looks at her a moment and then says. “Send word to your son, send word to Prince Tommen and tell him your terms. You are his mother, there is nothing he would not do for you. Surely you can convince your two sons to come to see eye to eye. We both know there are greater threats within and without the city than those two boys.”

Cersei looks at the maester, her thoughts whirring into a mass of confusion and blurriness. That damn secret is something that will always haunt her to the grave she knows it, and with Myrcella having disappeared, gods she does not know what to do. After a long moment she sighs and says. “What did you hold back from that meeting Pycelle?”

The maester looks at her. “I merely know that Renly Baratheon will not hold to his oath of fealty to Prince Tommen. The man is too desperate to become king, sooner or later he will try to take the throne, and when he does, Prince Tommen will need all the support he can get. You are his mother, he must listen to you if nothing else.”

Cersei sighs. “I know, but I fear Tommen does not care for my opinion anymore. Not after what happened when he was here.” She feels regret pool inside of her, the feeling that she has failed as a mother hits her deep and hard. Her sons are warring, her daughter is missing, deep inside she knows the witch was right, she has failed and her death might well come soon enough.

The maester looks at her with such an intense gaze she knows then what he will say before he says it. “You must try my queen. Otherwise we shall all be bathed in the stench of roses, and that that is something none of us will survive.”

Cersei nods and says. “I know.”


	56. The Fall

**4 th Month of 299 A.C. **

**Ser Jon Stark**

The task had been given to him, and Jon gratefully accepted it. King Tommen had asked that he take King’s Landing as bloodlessly as possible, though they both knew that that would not come to pass, not with Joffrey sitting the throne. Jon knew that Joffrey thought that the ten thousand men that he was bringing with him were to aid him in his struggles, but truly Jon would take no greater joy than in crushing the little golden haired shit to pieces with his own bare hands. For too long he had suffered underneath him, for too long had he played a role that ended today. King’s Landing was coming into sight, and by the gods Jon was relieved about that. He would no longer need to hide who he was and what he was. He was a soldier, and he was King Tommen’s man, that was something he had wanted to snarl from the rooftops every time that flower haired shit had said something. Jon did not like nor trust the Tyrells or the king’s uncle there was most definitely something at play in their camp and what it was he did not know, but there was something going on there.

Shaking his head Jon cleared his mind of thought and began looking forward to where King’s Landing stood, a city that his king so desperately wanted and a place that he would most definitely have by the end of today. there was no two ways about it, the city would fall as would the Red Keep, the Queen Dowager would be spared, but the false king was his. That was something that King Tommen had promised him and it was something Jon was grateful for, he did not think he could stomach having to play the lie one more time. As he looked about him, there was a sense of anticipation amongst the men, all of them knew what was going to happen today, there was no need for any of them to hide their desire, this war would come to an end and then they could focus on other challenges. As riders come into view, Jon barks a command and his men get ready to engage. The riders fly the colours of the false king and after a few words are exchanged they are led toward the gates of the city. King’s Landing looms before them and Jon feels somewhat nervous, but there is nothing to it, it will pass soon enough.

The gates open at a bark from the man in front of him, Jon watches as the gates swing open with a groan, the moment they are through the gates he roars a command and he and his men begin the process. Drawing his sword from its sheath, Jon swings blindly cutting down the man in front of him and moving on to his comrade. It is a primal thing this urge to kill he does not try to think of where it has come from, but he allows it to flow through him. Swinging his sword he kills the men of the city watch who come staggering toward him and his men, their eyes wide with fear. Laughing he swings his sword and cuts them down, taking pleasure in their death throes. This is justice, but the true justice is up Aegon’s High Hill, and it is there that he leads his men. It is there that he knows he will get the relief he so desperately needs. He swings his sword, arching through the throng of death and destruction and breathes in the light, the sweet smell of truth and lies being replaced. Here there is only one thing that is true, and that it is he and his men are the walking troops of death for those fighting for Joffrey Baratheon.

The throng converges onward and Jon allows it to push him through, swinging his sword, slashing through the crowd. Barking orders and roaring commands, he feels primal, Ghost is by his side tearing through all those who are in their way. He swings his sword, and those he does not kill, Ghost does, ripping into them with savage pleasure. There is nothing peaceful about this, they have not come to discuss terms, they have come to kill, to sack and to plunder. The victorious army that they are, they do not need to worry about the innocents, for Jon can see them gathering their own arms and turning on Joffrey’s men. They join his charge and they push through the growing decay that is becoming the gold cloaks. Swinging through the mess, Jon feels his heart hammer within, but there is only one name on his lips, and in his mind. Joffrey, he must find that bastard and make him pay, he will gain the justice owed to him. Those who are in his way are cut down without a pause for thought. He will not allow normal emotion to take a hold of him today, honour is a fleeting thing, something he can discount for now.

The taking of King’s Landing is by far the more important objective, and as the press moves forward, Jon can tell that soon enough the gold cloaks will fall just as Ser Gerion said they would. There is nothing more to it than this, Joffrey has nothing more left for him to fight for. Mors Rosby has disappeared, and as Jon sees a blond head appear he knows Lancel Lannister has fallen. At his side is Tywin Frey, fighting with savage joy writ across his face, this means as much to him as it does to Jon and for that he is glad, for he and Tywin are good friends, though it sometimes does not seem it. They push on, surging past the growing mass of confusion and destruction that Jon and his men have brought. This is what he is alive for, he will have justice, his father will be avenged, and there is nothing more to it than that. He swings his sword and laughs as more men die. The hill becoming ever clearer.

Aegon’s High Hill, where kings are made, there is something about the place that calls to him, it appeals to some inner sense of being. He discards that feeling though, instead concentrating on the fact that inside the red keep which sits atop the hill, Joffrey Baratheon resides. That is what makes him push through the tiredness that is beginning to envelop him, that is what makes him lead his men through the growing chaos that their army has brought. He knows that some part of him worries about what will happen when he finally comes face to face with Joffrey. Will the bastard try to manipulate him once more or not? Will he finally be strong enough to avoid the traps that have for so long ensnared him, he hopes so, and otherwise this will become a barren journey, a waste upon which the ground has been filled with bodies. He does not think he could deal with that. These thoughts are quickly pushed down as they move through the crowd toward the Red Keep.

His body is battered and bruised, there are dents in his armour, but he does not care. The Red Keep comes into view, and as the army pushes in stampeding over the bodies of the gold cloaks, he laughs as he sees red cloaks fall also, a sense of joy filling him. Then comes the Kingsguard, two new knights he does not know, nor care to, he and Ghost kill them both and ride on, the bodies filling him with a sense of nausea, but that does not matter on they push, swinging through the halls of the keep toward where he knows the bastard sits lying in wait. His heart hammers the closer they get to the throne room, his sword is slick with blood, his heart thumps, his hands are steady but his mind grows more and more chaotic, he wonders how he will act and what will happen. It does not help when he sees Tywin waylaid by a blow, he cannot stop though, this is far more important. On they go riding hard for the throne room, more Kingsguard meet him and are killed, dealt the harshness that Jon knows that they must be dealt, still he feels something akin to sorrow for the death of so much innocent life, a feeling that is crushed when he remembers who it is they serve.

The doors of the throne room slam open then as Jon and his men come pouring in, his men fill the room guarding it whilst Jon rides towards the throne, where on the monstrosity of Aegon’s design, sits the bastard who has cost Jon nearly everything. The bastard looks at him and asks. “Have you come to kiss the ring Jon?”

Jon sheathes his sword and lifts his helm off, before giving it to his squire, he then dismounts. His heart is hammering, all eyes are upon him, Ghost stalks by his side. He stops at the foot of the throne and says. “I have to deliver something to you.”

The bastard remains seated on his throne. “Well speak then Lord Jon, I do not have all the time in the world.”

Jon feels anger coil deep and hot inside of him, and as he looks at the bastard he sees his own father’s eyes turning grey and in on themselves. It is with deep effort that he says. “I must speak in private to you. This is something that cannot be spoken aloud, only whispered.”

There is a long silence then as Jon and the bastard stare at one another, and then eventually the man sighs and stands. “Very well, seeing as you have been such a good servant, I can give you this one favour.”

The bastard walks down the steps of the throne, dressed in simple royal attire, as if he was not expecting this to happen. Something tells Jon, that perhaps the man’s mother or someone has kept the destruction of the only force left to him a secret, that thought fills Jon with some savage pleasure. He can feel his heart thumping inside him now, straining to get out, but he suppresses the urge to shudder, he needs to remain calm, he cannot do that if he is straining to be free. As the bastard stops before him, he tells the Kingsguard to move aside, and then he asks. “Well then Lord Jon, what is it that is so important?”

Jon can feel the sense of anticipation inside of him, the two Kingsguard who were at the foot of the throne have since moved away per the bastard’s orders.  Jon cranes in toward the bastard, his hand on the knife he has carried for this purpose. “The city has fallen Your Grace, King Tommen is coming.”

It takes a moment for what he has said to be digested by the bastard, but once it is, the man snarls. “What?”

“The city is your brother’s now. I come from his camp, not for you, but for revenge. You are no king of mine.” Jon says, his voice filled with savage glee. Before the bastard can say anything, he pulls out the knife and stabs the bastard not once, not twice, but three times in the neck to make sure, as blood comes gushing out of the man’s neck, Jon whispers. “For my father, and for all those you have made suffer. You will die.” he plunges the knife into the bastard’s neck then, before pulling out his sword and burying it in the man’s chest.

As the bastard falls backward, Jon hears the scrape of steel as the two Kingsguard come toward him, but are torn back by his own men who spring from the walls and from where they had stood behind him. There is more fighting going on in the room, but Jon’s eyes are only for the body before him, the lifeless form of the man who has put him through hell. Joffrey Baratheon is dead, and Jon feels like laughing, justice has been delivered.


	57. Upon Your Head A Crown

**5 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing **

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

Victory was his, finally, it had seemed a long time coming. His brother was gone, slain by Jon, and though he knew that perhaps he should feel something, he felt nothing. Joffrey had been a monster well and true, there was nothing else to it. There was nothing more to his brother, other than the desire to cause sheer terror. Jon had been able to order his men with some restraint when it came to dealing with the damned city, the monster that had thrived and dined on blood during his brother’s reign. King’s Landing was still secure in a sense, Tommen remembers arriving to find the gates open and the city beckoning him in. a good feeling, a very good feeling, entering the city as the conqueror. Everything was not complete though, there was still more for him to do, and yet he had enjoyed the feeling of revelry and happiness upon finally sitting on the throne.

His coronation had been organised, Sansa had arrived with her family two days ago, coming on a vessel from White Harbour, and though there was some tension over whether or not she would be safe travelling the waters, it seemed the lords of the Vale were more content fighting one another than getting their future Queen. His wife looked beautiful, her cheeks rosy, her hair tied into an elaborate bun. He felt like the luckiest man alive as he looked at her, and he knew that there would never be anyone else for him. His heart quickens as she smiles back at him, and he takes her hand and squeezes it. Down by their feet Durran and Lady lie together, the symbols of his rule. As he looks over at the gathered crowd in the Great Sept he knows that there is something more to happen, and so the High Septon begins speaking. “My lords and ladies, we are here, today at the end of what has been a tragedy for a war, to witness the coronation of His Grace King Tommen of the House Baratheon, alongside his Queen, her Grace Sansa Baratheon formerly of the House Stark. Chose by the will of the gods and by the former king himself, we as the voice of the Seven do hereby anoint you with the seven oils.”

Tommen feels his hair dampen as the oils are placed on his hair, and then on his face, his shoulders and his arms. He looks over and sees Sansa grimace slightly as the same is done to her. Once that is done, Tommen looks at the High Septon and says the words he knows he needs to say. “I Tommen, King over all of Westeros, do in the light of the Seven, promise to rule wisely, justly and with a fair hand. I promise to never stray beyond the bond of my authority. With the seven as my witness, I do hereby swear that all shall know peace and justice under my rule. Every one of all faiths shall know safety and what it is to have a home here in my kingdom.”

There is a moment’s silence then as the hall digests his words, and then the High Septon speaks. “And what of those who committed atrocities during the war? What would become of them?”

This is a question that often surprises him, he is not sure whether this is truly a part of the oaths, or if this is something the man has just included to make himself more powerful. Swallowing, Tommen says. “I shall ensure that those who went against the word of the seven are brought to justice, and that if they repent that they shall be shown from the darkness and into the light.”

“And do you swear to all that is holy to protect the Faith, and to fight as its champion against all who would stand against it?” the High Septon asks.

This he knows is part of the oaths, having been so since the days of Jaehaerys the Wise. And so without hesitation he says. “I do hereby swear, that I shall be the sword that the Faith requires. Should the need arise, when challenged, I shall come to defend the Faith from those who would see it fall. As I will for all faiths brought under my peace.”

There is a moment’s silence as he stares at the High Septon, willing the man to question him, but the man does not do so, and instead he merely nods, before taking the crown from a servant, raising it high for all to see the man says. “Behold the crown of kings. By the power of the Seven, I do hereby invest you as King.” The man places the crown atop Tommen’s head, and he feels something akin to relief flood through him. As a small crown is placed atop Sansa’s head, the crowd cheers and Durran roars. Tommen looks at his wife and smiles.

He takes Sansa’s hand then and together they stand and head toward the balcony, where they wave to the masses who stand outside cheering and shouting things of praise. Tommen turns toward his wife and whispers. “They love you, my love. And rightfully so, gods above know how lucky I am.”

His bride blushes but moves closer to him. “I am lucky to be your wife my king. And they are lucky to have you as their king. We will be good for each other and for the realm do you not think?”

He can hear the question in her tone, and leans down to kiss her on the lips, enjoying the feeling of her lips on his. The crowd roars as he does so, and when they break apart, his bride is blushing. Grinning Tommen says. “Of course we will be my love, of course we will be.”

Before Sansa can respond though, Tommen’s uncle and hand Ser Gerion walks forward and whispers. “It is time to go to the keep Your Grace.”

Tommen nods and waving one last time at the crowds below, turns to his wife and says “Come my love, we have a feast to attend.” With that they leave the balcony, and the Great Sept and begin the journey back to the Red Keep. The streets are filled with people cheering and shouting things at them, Tommen and his wife ride side by side, Durran and Lady walking by their side. The rest of the court rides behind them, and Tommen knows this is something that irks his uncle, but truth be told he does not truly care.

There is even more celebration the closer they get to Aegon’s High Hill, and Tommen can feel his heart begin to quicken, eventually he dismounts from his horse and helps his wife dismount as well. Together they lead the way into the throne room, where that chair, the throne of his ancestors sits in wait. Tommen looks at it briefly, before sitting beside his wife at the top of the high table, others begin filling in, Gerion to his right, Robb to Sansa’s right, and Jon to his right, and so on and so forth. There is one person who is missing and that is Tommen’s sister, Myrcella has not been since they fled King’s Landing, and Tommen is beginning to worry over her. He wonders where she might be, and by the gods it is beginning to grate on him. Eventually, he pushes these worries to the side and stands up and says. “My lords and ladies, I thank you all for coming. Today is a joyous day, a day to celebrate and to remember those who are not here with us. I thank you all, now let us eat and make merry.” There is a loud shout of approval at that and so the feasting begins.

Tommen surveys the throne room, a feeling of happiness filling him, he sees Jon and Joy laughing about one thing or another, knowing that their marriage will occur soon enough, he sees Tywin Frey sat with members of his family, happy to be back with them. He sees his uncle and Ser Loras speaking about something or the other, whilst Lady Margaery sits there in silence. There is a heaviness in his heart though as he thinks of Myrcella, missing, and his own mother, kept in confinement in her rooms until he has the time to speak to her. Pushing those thoughts down he turns to his wife and says. “You look lovely today Sansa, truly you do. Every woman here, is jealous of you.”

His wife looks at him a smile on her face, and Tommen feels his breath catch looking at her. “You compliment me Tom. Truly, I think everyone here is envious because they are not married to you.” At that his wife places her hand on his leg, and Tommen feels anticipation begin to fill him.

“Well, we are a beautiful couple are we not?” he opines. “I do think they all have a reason to be jealous.”

His wife grins then, but before she can reply, he hears his uncle say. “I would be careful of what you say now Your Graces. There are many people here watching and looking for one wrong move. You would not want to give it to them.”

Tommen looks at his uncle, annoyance creeping in. “Truly? At a coronation feast? Those who would oppose me for my brother are either dead or fled. Baelish has disappeared, and Varys, well that eunuch is rotting somewhere in the sea.”

“The eunuch I would not discount Your Grace, he might be dead he might not be. As for Baelish, so long as that man remains alive, he will be a threat. The war in the Vale is still raging, you cannot rest easy just yet. Especially now that your grandfather is here.” His uncle says.

At the mention of his grandfather, Tommen looks at the man, Lord Tywin, the stern lord of the Rock, who had sat out this war, is sat some five or six chairs down from Tommen, and is looking at him intently. “Grandfather will have to be careful now though.” Tommen muses. “He did not fight for me or for Joffrey, and so his position is not as secure as he might hope.”

His uncle nods. “Indeed, and whilst that might be the case, you cannot rule out the fact that Tywin will most definitely be trying to gain positions of influence from now on. Especially considering the fact that Stannis remains aloof on Dragonstone.”

Tommen sighs then, taking a sip of wine, he feels Sansa squeeze his hand. “That is another matter. What in the name of all that is sacred, is my uncle still doing on Dragonstone. He should have come forth to swear fealty to me by now. There is nothing preventing him from doing so.”

His uncle looks thoughtful for a moment before saying. “It is perhaps because of the red priestess who is with him. You have seen yourself what effects she can have on him, there is no doubt in my mind that she shall need to be dealt with soon.”

Tommen sighs. “Another uphill battle then, for my uncle has the royal fleet, something that might well not bode well for us.” Tommen hears Sansa’s intake of breath, and decides to change the topic. “But enough of such dire talk. Tell me uncle how goes preparation for Joy’s wedding?”

His uncle brightens then. “It goes well. Joy is looking forward to it of course, and I know she is beginning to worry slightly over the dresses and other such womanly things.”

Sansa speaks then. “If she wishes it, I could help her decide somethings.”

Ser Gerion looks at Sansa for a moment and then says. “I believe that would be of great assistance, thank you Your Grace.”

Sansa smiles, and Tommen squeezes her hand in thanks, and just as he goes to say something, he sees his uncle Renly stand up his posture angry, before he turns and storms out of the hall. Tommen looks at his uncle’s retreating back, and then at Ser Loras, and suspicion begins to grow inside of him.


	58. Laughing Storm

**5 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Renly Baratheon**

He should have been king. That was the feeling that was most prominent in his mind these days. He would often find himself wondering what in the name of the seven had possessed him to stop and bend the knee to his nephew. Tommen was a good lad, but was more a warrior than an administrator and did not know how to do anything without the hand of his uncle Gerion, it was somewhat funny but also annoying, for it reminded him too much of Robert. There was far too much that was angering Renly these days, Loras was not speaking to him for gods alone knows what reason, his wife was growing heavy with child, and Mace Tyrell continued to bumble from one mistake to another, all the while Renly sat and wondered when his damned plan would come into motion.

Sitting here in this damned small council meeting was doing nothing for his health either. Named master of laws following the taking of the city, Renly had spent a vast amount of time clearing up Joffrey’s mess. It was not fun. The king was speaking about something rather intently, and so Renly forced himself to listen. “With Lord Tywin present within the city alongside some of his most powerful lords, one must thing that there is something he is hoping to achieve. Ser Gerion has not been able to deign what it is from his conversations with the man, and yet Pycelle you are the man whom my grandfather knows the most about, so pray tell us what you know.”

Renly grins at the apprehensive look on the Grand Maester’s face. “Well Your Grace,” the man begins. “I only know that Lord Tywin has come to bend the knee and offer whatever advice you seek fit to take from him. I know nothing more than that.”

Renly snorts then. “Come now Pycelle, it is a crime to lie to your king. We both know that there is something more to the man’s visit here. He would not be in King’s Landing with so many of his important bannermen if he were not hoping to get something from the king. And being as you have always been his most staunch of supporters one does have to wonder what that reasoning is.”

Pycelle looks at him a moment. “I do not know what you mean my lord. All I know is what everyone else here knows. That Lord Tywin has come to offer fealty and to offer whatever advice His Grace sees fit to ask from him.”

Renly snorts. “The King does not seek advice, the lords of the realm merely give whatever he asks of them. That is how it has always been, unless you are trying to suggest something else?”

The man looks surprised and horrified at this. “No, no of course not. I would never dream of suggesting anything of the sort. I am merely saying what I know.”

The king speaks then. “Enough of this. Whatever the reason for my grandfather being here, we shall soon find out. That is not the main concern of this council. Lord Renly, you are the master of laws, tell me, what efforts have you made to reduce the corruption and the lawlessness that were in full flow during my brother’s reign.”

Renly looks at his nephew and then says. “I have spoken with the new commander of the city watch, and together we have taken steps to ensure that the city watch is purged of those who were taking bribes, and have been replaced with men who know their full role and do so with the presence of mind to accept the honour that this position is. Furthermore, I have removed the taxes on bread and sugar that Joffrey had instituted, as well as ensuring that the curfews have been removed. For we are now in a time of peace not in a time of war.”

There is silence for a moment and then the king nods. “Good. A very good job. But what of those brigands who have been troubling those coming in and out of the capital? They have been dealt with have they not?”

Renly looks at his nephew, and feels the temptation to reply that yes they have been dealt with, but only in the way that they are now his men. Of course saying such a thing would not get him any favours and so he says. “Yes Your Grace. They have either been captured and tried and executed, or they have been dispersed across the kingdoms with their tails between their legs.”

His nephew nods, and Renly feels like laughing at the trusting look in his nephew’s eyes. “And what of those rogues who were part of my uncle’s army? What of them?”

Renly grimaces a moment and then says. “I have had them captured and they are coming toward King’s Landing as we speak. They will be tried and done for as they are rightly meant to be Your Grace.”

The king nods. “Of course. Of course. Now tell me Renly, what word have your men found for my sister? It has been nearly a moon since they were sent out, and there has been no word from them. I would know what you know.”

Something inside him freezes then, Myrcella, the only one of his brother’s children that he likes, she has been missing for a long time, and he has most definitely been worrying over him. But the deal he made a long time ago, comes springing to mind and he knows mentioning that would get him killed, instead he sighs and says. “From what my men have been able to tell me Your Grace, the last known sighting of the Princess was in the crownlands near Lord Harroway’s Town, after that the trail goes cold. None of my men know where she is, and none know where she could have gone.”

A look of deep sadness passes over the king’s face, and then Lord Stark speaks. “Are you sure you have been looking hard enough my lord? After all, one knows your attention has been diverted in other areas and rightfully so. It would not be a surprise if you had overlooked something, or one of your men had overlooked something.”

Renly looks at the young man anger beginning to grow inside of him. “What are you trying to suggest Stark? That I have not looked for my own gods’ damned niece properly because of some ridiculous claim? I understand you are worried but use your brain for god’s sake.”

Stark looks at him then, anger in his eyes, and for a moment Renly worries that the man knows something, something about what he has done. “I am merely suggesting what many think. That this search of yours is not being carried out to the best of its possible abilities. We all know you crave that throne, and yet Princess Myrcella is another obstacle in your path, not looking for her, would ensure your way is clearer.”

Renly feels a white hot anger begin to boil inside of him. “Ridiculous accusations. All here know that I am already King Tommen’s heir until a son is born to him and his lady wife, your own sister. I do not need to use trickery or any other move. My position is secure, and I resent your accusations.” He thunders

Stark looks at him his eyes accusatory. “And what would happen should my sister’s child dies. Or if my sister would die? We all know about those who have been lurking too close to her.”

“You will take those accusations back Stark. I am no child killer.” Renly growls.

“No but you are an ambitious man, and one who forgot the way the law works.” Stark replies his voice cold.

Renly stands up then, anger flowing through his veins. “If you have something to say, then say it Stark. And if you want to make such slanderous accusations, then defend them with steel.”

“I will if you are man enough to fight Renly. We all know that Ser Loras is your champion.” Stark growls.

“Enough!” the king bellows, sounding so much like Robert it is frightening. “You will both stop this nonsense right now.” Renly looks at his nephew, and sees a livid anger there, and knowing to cross that would be foolish he sits down. The king looks at him and then Stark and says. “We cannot afford to fight each other, when there is so much that still needs to be done. You two shall put aside your damned differences right this moment.”

Renly looks at Stark and merely nods though he does not say anything, nor does Stark. The king then turns his attention on to the hand. “So we have limited information about where my sister is. But we now know where Baelish is. The snake being in the Vale is no surprise, though his faction is quickly losing ground. Soon enough we shall have that man in chains. The only other question pertains to the Spider.”

The hand of the king speaks then. “Gods alone know where that creature has gone to. He could be anywhere within the realm or outside the realm. The man was most definitely planning something before he left though, that much there is proof for. Though what it was I am not sure.”

Renly looks at the hand and says. “If you think that by looking through old notes and logs you will get to Varys, then you are sorely mistaken. The man knows how to hide his tracks, and he knows how to sliver away when need be. No doubt there is something deep and sophisticated on his mind that will come to bite us all on the arse. And there is no doubt in my mind the Queen Dowager is part of that plan.”

“What role could the Queen Dowager have in any of the spider’s schemes?” Jon Stark, the new Lord of Harrenhal asks.

Renly looks at the boy and his eyes begin to narrow. “The Queen Dowager and the eunuch were becoming closer during the final days of King Robert’s reign. There were things being discussed that I did not think were right.”

The king’s eyes narrow. “What sort of things?”

Renly looks at his nephew then and says. “I do not what exactly was being discussed between them. Though I know there was something strange about their discussions, something very strange. It was almost as if they were plotting something or the other. Though of course that could well be my own imagination.”

“Careful Lord Renly, we do not want to bring about something false now do we.” The hand says. “The Queen Dowager has been pardoned of whatever crimes she had a part in during King Joffrey’s reign, we will not bring more crimes to her unless there is proof of them.”

Renly fears his anger grow then, the accusation is there in the man’s eyes and he knows he just knows the man has something on him. The mere thought makes him nervous, but he knows that there are some things even the great Ser Gerion cannot do to him. He takes comfort in that, but still, there is something troubling him about this. “Of course Ser, I would not dream of doing such a thing.”

Stark snorts then. “Of course you would say something such as that.”

Renly glares at Stark but before he can say anything, the king speaks. “Has there been any word from my uncle on Dragonstone?”

Renly laughs. “If there had been word from Dragonstone, no doubt it would have been in the form of some slander from the red woman who my brother is no doubt sleeping with. There is nothing more concrete than that Your Grace. Stannis has chosen his path, I say we deal a harsh blow to him.”

The king looks at him a moment. “Perhaps you are right. I cannot have such disobedience lasting as long as his has.”


	59. A Meeting

**6 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

The crown was a weight on his shoulders, he felt it more keenly now than he had done when he had been fighting. Perhaps his uncle was right, perhaps he was more a fighter than a schemer, regardless, the crown might sit more heavily on his shoulders now than it had done, but it was a weight that was made somewhat easier by the presence of his wife. Sansa was like a balm for him, she was what kept him grounded and together more than anything else could do so. There was much and more he relied on her for, and he did not know what he would do without her. That she was with child was even more good news to ease his worries, there was much that was plaguing him as of late, and that one bit of news was more than  enough to soothe some of his worries.

Though not enough to stop the nagging feeling that there had been since he had taken King’s Landing. His mother had remained confined to her rooms for the duration so far, and right now it was time for him to speak with her. His heart was thumping in his chest as he enters her room, his mother stands then and curtseys, she looks worn and tired, and Tommen does not know what to truly think. He looks at her and then says. “Mother.”

His mother dips her head. “Your Grace. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tommen feels something pang inside of him at her words, but pushes that feeling to one side when he asks. “How have you been doing mother? Have they been treating you well? Are you eating well?”

Something flashes inside his mother’s eyes then, but then as quickly as it came it is gone again. “I am well Your Grace. My every need has been seen to. Thank you for that Your Grace. Truly I am grateful.”

An awkward silence falls on them then, and Tommen shifts uneasily on his feet. He does not know what to say, truly he does not, and he wonders at that. Surely it should be easy to speak to his mother, she is his mother after all, but then again, nothing is at it should be, he supposes. He looks at her, and sees her looking at him keenly. Sighing he says. “Mother….”

His mother looks at him then and says. “What do you want me to say Your Grace? I have been made a prisoner in my own home. My daughter is still missing, and I do not know if she is even alive. My son is dead, and my other son sits where his brother should be sitting.”

Tommen grits his teeth then. “Joffrey was a monster mother. Surely you must realise that by now? He would have brought nothing but destruction and chaos to King’s Landing. He needed to be dealt with, for the good of the realm. And for the good of our family.”

His mother looks at him sharply, and Tommen feels as if he is a little boy once more, caught wanting his mother’s approval, but withering under her gaze. “He was your elder brother. He was by rights the true king of Westeros. Whatever his faults he was your brother, and you should have done more to help him. Instead of gallivanting off and starting a war against him.”

“He would have had me killed mother. He would have killed those I cared about! How can you not see that?!” Tommen exclaims.

His mother looks at him a long moment and then she snorts. “I see only the product of what my uncle Gerion has been feeding you. You grew up on lies and on hypocrisy and now you shall suffer for it Your Grace. None will fight for a man who saw his brother killed.”

“None were willing to fight for Joffrey. Uncle Jaime was killed because of the man’s foolishness. Surely you see what Joffrey cost us mother? How can you sit there and defend him knowing all the wrong he did?” Tommen asks.

His mother looks at him then, her gaze hard but also wavering. “Because he is my son.”

His heart is aching now. “I am your son as well am I not mother? I came from you, just as much as Joffrey did. And yet our whole lives you only sided with him, you only did what he asked of you, and ignored me. Why? What wrong did I do, that was so great that you could not ever do something for me?”

His mother takes a step toward him her hands outstretched and then she stops and her hands fall to her sides, and Tommen feels as if his heart will break, so much does it hurt. “I…I…” his mother stammers.

“You always sided with him whenever we argued when we were younger. I, I…it does not matter now. He is dead, and I am not a child anymore.” Tommen says.

“You never gave me the chance to get to know you Tommen,” his mother says then, her voice wavering. “You were always with the Starks and Gerion. You never did much to let me know you. What else was I supposed to do, other than be with your brother?”

“I…I.. I did not know whether you wanted me or not mother. You always wanted me to be like Joffrey. But I could not be like him, never, never. He was a monster, and I…I did not want to be like that. Why would you want me to be like that?” Tommen asks, his voice beginning to choke.

His mother moves forward then and she puts her arms around him, Tommen feels his walls beginning to break. “I never meant for that Tommen, truly I did not. I never knew how much that hurt you. I am sorry sweetling, truly I am.”

Tommen spends a few moments in his mother’s embrace, relishing the feeling, and knowing that this might well be the last time such a thing happens. Sighing he pulls himself back, and says. “I know Mama, I know. But I must go now.”

“Go?” his mother asks surprised. “Where?”

Sighing he says. “I must speak with grandfather.”

His mother’s eyes narrow. “Very well then, but be careful Tommen, he can be a very deceiving man when he wants to be.”

Tommen merely nods. “Of course.” With that he hugs her briefly and then turns and walks out of the room. Ser Arys, his sworn knight, walks behind him as they walk toward his rooms where his grandfather will be waiting. His thoughts are muddled as he walks to his rooms. So much is going to be happening in the next few weeks, he does not know whether or not he has the strength for this, he is not made for scheming and intrigues, fighting, that is what he knows. He does not voice these thoughts aloud, for they have come to his rooms, nodding to Ser Arys and Ser Barristan, he merely walks into the room. His grandfather stands up as he enters. “Grandfather,” he says formally. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Not at all Your Grace. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. There are many things that we need to discuss after all.” His grandfather replies.

Tommen nods. He knows his grandfather will try to control the conversation, and as of right now he does not have the patience for such a thing, his nerves are still somewhat frayed from his conversation with his mother earlier. “Tell me grandfather, how long do you intend to remain in King’s Landing?”

“As long as you require me to remain here Your Grace.” His grandfather replies.

Tommen looks at his grandfather then for a long moment and then replies. “The issue Grandfather, is that I do not know what role you could fulfil by remaining here in King’s Landing. Surely there are things that would need to be dealt with in the West? With the Ironborn imploding on themselves, you would serve more as a shield of Lannisport, than here.”

His grandfather looks surprised by this. “The Ironborn would not dare cross over the waters whilst they are busy killing themselves Your Grace. I am better served here, aiding you in whatever way is necessary.”

Tommen looks at the man and sees a sense of desperation in the man, he never thought he’d see. “I appreciate that Grandfather, but I believe we are quite fine here with those aiding me on the council at present.”

His grandfather snorts. “Truly? Renly Baratheon is just waiting for the perfect moment to betray you. I would not be surprised if the man has Myrcella somewhere, and is planning on using her for one thing or another. And then there is the issue of Varys and Baelish, both are slippery people who I do not think my own brother could find, if his life depended on it.”

Tommen snorts. “Considering he managed to find the sword that I use in battle, when you and many other Lannisters had not been able to find it for millennia, I think he would do just fine, finding those two. Regardless, we know where Baelish, no doubt he will soon be bleeding to death on a field somewhere within the Vale.”

“And the Eunuch? The man knows his way around King’s Landing, he knows his way around various other places. No one knows where he might appear next. Apart from myself, the man and I worked closely together for some four or five years, I know where he might go, and where he thinks he might well be safe.” His grandfather says.

Tommen looks at the man and merely says. “Then go and find him. Do not sit here, go and find the man my lord, and bring me his head. Then we might be able to discuss another role for you here in King’s Landing.”

His grandfather clearly recognises the dismissal, for he stands and bows. “Thank you, Your Grace.” And with that he turns and walks out of the room.

A moment of silence passes, and then Tommen gets up and walks to the door, calling in Ser Arys when the man sits down, Tommen looks at him and then asks. “You are from the Reach Ser Arys, tell me, what do you think the Tyrells will do?”

The knight rarely speaks unless spoken to, but his voice is a reassuring thing in this time when Tommen’s own thoughts are scattered. “They will do what is necessary for them to achieve the most power. If that means seeing Margaery with child then that is what they will do. If that means removing you they will do it. Or they might well look to removing your own wife from the games here.”

“Would they truly do something as risky as that, for the damned throne?” he asks.

“They are Tyrells, they hunger for that which they have never had, and that which they should not truly hunger for. It is in their nature, it is a sad thing, but it is the truth.” The knight replies.

“Then we must make sure that they do not get the opening they so crave. I do not believe my uncle, my grandfather is right, there is something else going on here. Myrcella cannot have been missing for this long without something else happening. I want your family looking into this, if there is anything strange going on in the Reach, I want to know what it is.” Tommen says firmly.

The knight nods. “Of course Your Grace. I would also recommend doing something about Lord Renly. The man has not been himself since he bent the knee, and I fear there is something more sinister going on in his head.”

Tommen nods and then says. “I shall have men posted on watch. We cannot have another damned war.”


	60. Blood Clot

**6 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Renly Baratheon**

Anger that was the emotion he felt most familiar with at present. There was a lot of anger flowing through him. Anger at being over looked for some important roles within his nephew’s court, anger with himself over capitulating and bending the knee. Anger at the things he had had to do to ensure his position remained secure. There was much and more that he had had to do that filled him with disgust. Truly, he just wanted all of this to be over and done with. Loras continued to chip away at what little restraint he had, and then there was the fact that he was soon to be a father, at least according to what Margaery said, whether the child was his or not he did not know, nor did he truly care.

“You must do something Renly, we cannot allow that whoreson to take more power from us. Already he is infecting the court with his lies.” Loras insists.

Renly looks at his lover and sighs. “What do you want me to do? The man has spies almost everywhere. Even if I do something now, he will know about it before I have the chance to do a single thing.”

His lover looks at him a long moment and then says. “Do what your brother would do. Robert would not stand for such things to happen without bringing those who had done them to justice. The man is corrupting the king, something must be done about it.”

“Like what?” Renly asks exasperated. “I cannot give him the one thing he wants the most now, for that would only incriminate myself, and all of us here. And I will not do that.”

“You can plant the seeds for him finding what he wants though my lord.” His wife says. “You do not need to lead him directly to where the thing is, but you need only show the way.”

Tired and broken, Renly merely looks at his wife and asks. “And how pray tell am I to do that without giving away almost everything? He will find out, or if he does not then the hand will find out, and we shall all be doomed. You heard what happened to Baelish sure as I did. That was done on the king’s orders.”

“You are the king’s uncle though my lord,” his wife replies. “None would dare do as they did to Baelish to you. Nor would the king be mad enough to try it.”

Renly snorts. “I do not think that is true, and we both know it. Baelish’s head hangs on a spike somewhere in the Vale whilst his body parts are being passed around the kingdoms. If Tommen were to find out what I had done then we would all be finished.”

“Then there must be something we can do to ensure that we can get by without the king trying to kill us all.” The Lord of Highgarden asks.

Renly looks at the man and says. “I doubt it my lord. The king is looking to stamp out any and all resistance to his rule, and I do believe that includes us as well. Our time is running out. We might as well accept our fate.”

“So you would give up without a fight? Like a craven you would walk to the gallows?” Loras asks.

Renly looks at his former squire and says. “If it means living yes. There is a chance we can survive this without needing to bring ourselves to death. The king will listen if it is his queen who is doing the persuading.”

“You want to use our friendship for that purpose?” his lady wife asks.

“I think that might be for the best my lady.” Renly replies. “The Queen is of a gentle heart, she can be turned into believing our cause. Surely she must see how corrupt the king is becoming under the influence of his uncle.”

His lady wife is silent a moment and then she nods. “I shall do this. I do not think it would take much to get the Queen to lend us a sympathetic ear.”

“I cannot believe this. You are the damned king who should sit the throne Renly. Why are you sinking to this level?” Loras asks.

Before Renly can reply, there is a knock on the door and then it opens, to reveal Ser Arys Oakheart and two other members of the Kingsguard, the knight from Old Oak speaks. “Lord Renly, you and your companions are being requested to come before His Grace in the throne room.”

“This is outrageous! What are you demanding he come before the false king for?” Loras demands.

The Kingsguard knight merely looks at Loras with disdain before replying. “To answer for some suspicious activity that has been reported to the king by members of his small council. It appears Lord Renly has been caught up in these activities.”

Renly feels his stomach begin to knot at this. “And what of my companions? Surely they do not need to come before the throne?”

Ser Arys looks at him then and merely replies. “You are all under suspicion, you must come before the throne to plead your case.”

“This is ridiculous. I will do no such thing.” Loras replies, going to draw his sword.

“Loras enough of this foolishness.” Renly snaps. He turns to the Kingsguard and merely says. “We shall accompany you.”

The knight of the Kingsguard merely nods and turns round and walks out of the room. Renly looks at Loras, and stares at him meaningfully until the man begins walking, taking his lady wife’s arm, Renly walks out of the room, his goodfather walking behind him. They have only been a few minutes out of the room when one of the Kingsguard knights, Renly does not know his name, pulls out his sword and turns round and thrusts his sword through Loras’ stomach. The shock of the man’s action hits Renly hard, and before he knows what he is doing, he is pulling his arm free of Margaery’s and launching himself at the Kingsguard knight. But before he can get to the man, he feels armour hit his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He looks up to see Ser Arys standing there in front of him, a grim look on his face. Before he can even ask what is happening, the knight merely says. “I am sorry my lord, but this had to be done.” He sees the blade, and then feels it plunge into his chest, the darkness engulfs him like a welcoming wave.


	61. The Afterman

**7 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

“The Lords of the Stormlands are being consistent in their oaths of fealty Your Grace. There is no doubt in my mind that they shall not do anything to bring about disrepute or chaos to the realm.” Jon says.

“Then why do I get the feeling that there is something more brewing in that place? You are certain that they shall not do anything to challenge my hold over the Stormlands?” Tommen asks.

The Lord of Harrenhal nods. “Aye Your Grace I am sure. The men of the Stormlands, as you know were never happy with how Lord Renly was invested with the Tyrell interest. And with Lord Renly, his goodfather and Ser Loras dead then there is no hope for them. Ser Garlan and Lady Margaery are hostages to the crown, and Lord Willas is known to be a prudent man.”

“Still, I do not want this to escalate beyond what it needs to. The Lords of the Stormlands are fiercely proud and they liked my uncle well enough.” Tommen says.

“They cared more for your father than they ever did the ponce who called himself Lord of Storm’s End.” Ser Gerion says. “They will not cause a fuss, the Reacherlords we know are divided over this matter, but they will do as their liege lord does, and with Lady Margaery a hostage, the man would need to be a greater fool than his father to risk war.”

Tommen looks at his uncle, it had been on his suggestion that the murder of Renly and two male Tyrells had happened. It sits uneasily with Tommen, but he supposes that it is for the best, now with the man dead and gone, there is one less threat to his reign. Still there is one thing that must needs be sorted. “You managed to get the information needed before the act was carried out I trust?”

It is Robb who speaks then. “Yes Your Grace, we did. We know where the traitors were keeping Princess Myrcella now, and the appropriate arrangements are being made to find her and bring her home.”

Tommen nods. “Good, very good. I want you to lead the expedition to bring my sister home Robb. She is your betrothed, it is only right that you journey there to bring her home.”

The Lord of Winterfell nods. “Thank you Your Grace. I will not fail you.”

Tommen smiles at his friend. “I know you shall not. When you both arrive back, you shall marry. Enough time has passed, I will not risk anything more.”

The man smiles then. Tommen then turns his attention back to his uncle. “What word has there been from the Vale? Have the lords who fought for Baelish surrendered and accepted our decision to name Lord Yohn as the new Lord of the Vale?”

That had been one decision that Tommen had been most adamant on, the Lord of Runestone had been one of his most loyal supporters, it was only right that he get this honour. After Harrold Hardying had died during one of the battles, questions had emerged over who would succeed into the Lordship of the Vale. His uncle speaks after a moment’s silence. “There had been some opposition with some minor lords insisting that Robert Stone sit the Falcon Throne despite his bastardy. Those lords have been dealt with now though and there is peace within the Vale. That kingdom is slowly being rebuilt now, and with the lords having fully accepted the Royces as their lords, it seems that the process will be the better for it.”

“Would it not have been better to perhaps have given the Vale to one of the cadet branches of House Arryn Your Grace?” Jon asks. “After all they do have a claim on the Eyrie, from their descent. Surely there will be those who would fight for them?”

Tommen looks at his friend and sighs, despite the war, there is still a naivety to his friend. “They have no allies whatsoever within the Vale. They were not even considered as a possibility for the heirship under Jon Arryn or even Robert Stone. There is no point in giving them something they have not earned. The Eyrie will not be the home of the Vale anymore, Lysa Tully saw to that. The Royces have ensured that they succeed to the Lordship of the Vale because of their actions and support for my cause.”

There is a moment’s silence and then Robb asks. “What will be done with the Lady? She is a traitor alright, and yet she is my aunt. I know my mother might not wish to see harm done to her.”

Tommen fixes his friend with a hard look, and then says. “She shall be sent to the Silent Sisters, to live the rest of her days in silence. I will not have her continue to spread whatever nonsense it is that Baelish filled her head with. Lady Catelyn may rest easy knowing that.”

His friend nods, and then Gerion speaks. “There is one more thing of importance Your Grace.” Tommen looks at him expectantly. “It seems that there has at last been movement on Dragonstone. Lord Stannis seems to have begun mobilising his fleet, whether it is to respond to some hostility he has been facing from the Driftmark and from Claw Isle is not clear. Though there are some suggestions that it could be he means to strike for King’s Landing.”

This surprises Tommen. “Why in the name of the Seven would he try to make for King’s Landing? What reason does have for doing so?”

“The whisperings of his red whore. It seems she has been spreading the poison of her false religion to Dragonstone. That is why there is discontent amongst the lords of the narrow sea. Perhaps the time has come to openly deal with the man.” his uncle says.

Tommen considers this for a moment and then says. “Send one more raven out to the damned place, if my fool of an uncle does not reply then we shall mobilise the troops and begin the march out to Dragonstone. He has been silent for too long now.”


	62. Myrcella

**7 th Month of 299 A.C. **

**Lord Robb Stark**

Robb and forty of his best men had left King’s Landing almost three weeks ago now, riding hard for the Stormlands where they had learned his betrothed and love Myrcella was being held captive. It appeared that her uncle, that treacherous git, Renly had taken her hostage during their escape from King’s Landing, Robb was glad the bastard was dead, but he was also nervous. She had been held hostage for almost half a year, gods above knew what she would be like. His nerves were almost filled to breaking, as he ordered his men to halt, as they came to the castle, where Tommen had said she was being held.

His breath catches as he sees her in front of him, looking as beautiful as ever. Ser Cortnay Penrose the castellan of Storm’s End is there with her. “Lord Robb.” The man says. “As promised here is the princess.”

Robb nods and says. “Thank you for keeping your end of the deal Ser Cortnay.” Pausing he looks at his love and asks. “You are well my princess?”

She gives him a fleeting smile and says. “I am well my lord, I thank you.”

Nodding, he looks back at the castellan and says. “I will accept your oaths of fealty now for King Tommen, and welcome you back into the King’s peace.”

Hesitation is visible in the man’s eyes as he looks at Robb. “My lord, I…what of Edric Storm? The king’s bastard brother?”

Robb looks at the man and says. “What of him? He is a bastard, and as such will be taken to King’s Landing, where the king shall aid in his raising. There is nothing more to it.”

The castellan audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you my lord.” With that the man jumps down from his horse, and walks toward Robb. Robb, himself dismounts at this and goes to stand before the man.

Looking down on the aged man, Robb asks. “Do you swear by ice and fire, that from this day until your last you and your men will be loyal to King Tommen and his heirs?”

“We do my lord. From this day to our last, we shall recognise no other sovereign than King Tommen and his heirs. We shall fight to defend them with our last breaths.” The man says solemnly.

Robb nods and then clasping the man’s shoulders helps him stand. “Then rise Ser, and be welcome into the king’s peace.” There is a moment’s silence and then he asks. “You are ready to come to King’s Landing?”

“King’s Landing my lord?” the man asks surprised.

“Yes, the king has asked for your presence there. Edric Storm is to come with you.” Robb says.

The man looks taken aback by this, but merely bows. “As you wish my lord. I shall ensure everything is in order for when we depart.” With that he turns and leaves.

The rest of Robb’s men go to help the man, leaving Robb, Greywind and his betrothed alone with one another. Robb looks at her a moment and then when she dismounts he hugs her fiercely. “My love.” He whispers into her hair.

She pulls back then, and looks at him with so much love in her eyes, that Robb feels as if his heart is going to burst. “I missed you.” She says and then she is kissing him, and he is kissing her.

He feels complete for the first time in a long time, throughout the whole war he has felt empty and broken, as if there is something missing inside him. Now he knows what that was, Myrcella completes him and he her, gods he has missed her. They are kissing and kissing, and Robb feels as though he is finally whole. There is no word to explain this feeling, by the gods it is a good feeling. When they break apart to breathe, they are both flushed. Robb grins and says. “Now that is a welcoming.”

Myrcella hits his shoulder playfully then. “What took you so long my love? I thought you’d know where to look for me the moment Renly bent the knee.”

Robb looks at her surprised. “You know about that?”

His betrothed nods. “Oh yes, once word came of Renly’s death, they told me everything. Though I knew Renly would always bend the knee, my uncle was too much of a craven to continue fighting.”

Robb grunts. “Your uncle was many things my love, and not all of them are very complimentary. But enough of that. Tell me, you are still wanting to get married are you not?”

He asks the question as normally as he can, though it is a fear that has been nagging him for some time. His betrothed looks at him in surprise. “Of course I am! Why would I not be Robb?”

Robb hesitates for a moment unsure of what to say, and then he says softly. “Because I failed to protect you when you escaped. I could not get to you during the war.”

His betrothed puts a hand to his cheek then and whispers. “You could not get to me my love. I understand the difficulties you went through. That does not mean I love you any less. I want to marry you Robb, I have done for a long time now.”

Robb smiles at her then. “I have missed you Myrcella, truly I have. We shall leave from this place the moment Penrose is ready.”

Myrcella laughs at that. “Oh he will be ready. The man has been fretting over what to do for a long time now. This will make no difference to him. He will be ready soon enough.”

Robb takes a curl of her hair then between his fingers, and says. “It will be a long ride back. There is much and more that needs being done, Storm’s End will need to be soon to soon enough as well.”

His betrothed sighs then. “It seems my brother has much and more to do. But enough of that talk, let us enjoy the peace for now eh?”

Robb looks down at her and smiles. “Of course my love.” With that he leans down and kisses her once more, and for the first time in a long time, the world feels right to Robb Stark.


	63. Brighter Than A Thousand Sons

**7 th Month of 299 A.C. Fury**

**King/Lord Stannis Baratheon**

He had spent too long quietly sat in his castle, doing nothing whilst the kingdom bled. There had been much he had wanted to do, and yet Melisandre and his own fears had kept him from acting. He did not have enough men to directly challenge King’s Landing, and now, well now he knew he was going to die. Sooner rather than later, the Velaryons and the Celtigars had betrayed him. He should have seen this from the beginning, two houses staunchly loyal to the Targaryens would always rally when the dragons came calling once more, that they had done so now, well that was just another thing that had gone against him.

The dragons were here, fighting him and his men fiercely. The mad king’s son had come calling, driving the push forward for revenge. The Lyseni were fighting their way through, and Stannis was watching all of this from aboard his ship, itching to fight. For too long had he spent doing nothing, allowing others to fight, and die, whilst he did nothing. No longer, no longer would he allow such a thing. Leaving Melisandre behind, he had armoured himself and set sail to deal with the dragon and his army. There would be hell to pay for them. The sound of the fighting rang through him, and he could feel its jarring effects right down to his bones.

Drawing his sword and barking a command, Stannis feels Fury move beneath him, and as the ship rams into a Lyseni galley, he barks another command and then with his heart hammering, he moves to meet those who come to fight. Swinging Lightbringer he arcs and ducks, slashes, and cuts, moving away from those blows that might do him harm. He manages to largely avoid being cut, but there are those who pursue him with a rapid intensity, his armour takes a few blows, and he winces with the pain. He does manage to bring down a few foes of his own though, slashing and swinging, cutting men down, ensuring that his training does not go for nought.

The rocking of the ship unnerves him slightly, it always has. He was not born to fight at sea, and yet that is where he has done most of his fighting. It always surprises him, this urge, the urge to be on the open water, it seems as though that is a part of him that only came to light following the rebellion. Swinging his sword, Stannis remembers the siege all too well, the hunger, and the grief, and now with Renly dead, killed by his own ambition, Stannis wonders what else might come to haunt him from his past, and from his actions. His sword cuts through some silver haired shit, and Stannis moves on. His armour weighing him down slightly, still he continues to fight.

His brother had always been too ambitious, there was something inside Renly that made him want to reach out and do that which he should never have done. Stannis has that urge as well, that and well, he has never felt comfortable doing these things. He was not born to fight like Robert was, nor was he born to scheme like Renly. He was just there, doing something, and nothing at the same time. His arms ache, the ship is a blur, and there is something else happening inside him. His mind is not clear, but it is not full either. He does not know what it is exactly, but he continues and hopes that it will clear.

The sea is a foul mistress, swinging and dashing herself against the ship, Stannis sees men both of his and from the enemy, falling overboard. He does not pray for them, he has not done that since his own parents died. He continues fighting, his sword becoming like an extension of himself. It is covered red, glowing slightly, it continues to move as if of its own accord, Stannis becoming merely the vehicle for it. The sword has never reacted so before, it is almost as if there is something else powering it. He wonders at that, there are parts of him that doubt the truth of Melisandre’s words, and by the gods is he tired now, tired of all this weight and expectation. He does not want the throne, nor the glory she claims is his. He wants nothing more to do his duty.

His body aches from where it has been struck, but he knows that this is not the end. He must keep fighting, with everything he has. The dragons cannot be allowed near Dragonstone. He took it from them, and he will bloody well hold it. Fury is a distant memory to him now, all he knows is that the ship he is on now, rocks and turns as the waves move about it fiercely.  The men coming charging toward him fall with ease, pushed to the side, as if they are nothing. His sword is slick with their blood, his heart thumping within his chest. This is not the way it will go forever he knows. Death will come. It has always been there waiting for him, hovering in the darkness, it is only now that he sees it clearly. The life he has been living is a lie, there is no saviour for this world, only war, and duty. He has failed in one aspect, but not in another.

Cheers go up and Stannis wonders at that, he sees a silver head raised up and cheers begin to make sense. One dragon is dead, but there is another waiting to come. Stannis feels his armour begin to weigh him down, and as he clashes swords with another enemy, he feels himself slip and then he is falling. Falling, and falling down, before he hits the water. A cold reality hits him then, this is it, this is his death. His armour drags him down to the darkness below. As he loses his vision, and the world begins to blur, he swears he sees his mother waiting for him, her hand outstretched.


	64. Meetings

**8 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

“The ruins of the ships confirm that it was indeed a Targaryen invasion fleet that had come calling Your Grace.” Uncle Gerion says. “It seems the fleet was led by Viserys Targaryen come to claim what was once his father’s throne. Lord Stannis’ movements seem to have been done with preventing the man from getting anywhere near Dragonstone let alone the mainland.”

Tommen looks at his uncle a moment and then says. “And my uncle is most definitely dead? He was not merely thrown from his ship during the course of battle?”

“His body was not found, but he was seen falling from his ship Your Grace. The weight of armour alone would have dragged him down beneath the surface and prevented him from rising once more Lord Stannis is dead.” Ser Gerion says.

Tommen considers this and then says. “Very well, I want his wife and daughter brought to court to ensure their safety. I do not want anyone making moves for them, and furthermore I want his red whore brought to court for trial. She has begun spreading poison and I want it destroyed.”

His uncle nods. “Of course Your Majesty, this will be done at once.” His uncle pauses for a moment and then asks. “What of Edric Storm Your Grace? The boy is in your custody now thanks to Lord Stark, it would be wise to find a purpose for him, rather than allowing him to stew here.”

Tommen looks at his uncle, his half-brother reminds Tommen a lot of their father, with his stubbornness and glib tongue. “Indeed, I believe my half-brother might be suited being trained to become a member of the Kingsguard. That is the best way to ensure his skills are used appropriately.”

His uncle nods. “A wise choice Your Grace. Edric will make a fine squire for one of the knights of the Kingsguard. Whom did you have in mind?”

“Ser Arys. My brother must learn the skill of remaining quiet. I fear my uncle pampered the brat far too much.” Tommen responds. Then pausing for a moment he turns to Grand Maester Pycelle and asks. “You have done what was asked of you maester?”

The grand maester remains silent a long moment and then says. “I have Your Grace. The lady shall be experiencing her moon blood soon enough. She will not be a threat for some time.”

Nodding appreciatively, Tommen responds. “Good. That means we can now use her for our own gain. Tyrion is unwed as of now, it is time we ensured that his hand was tied and the succession to the Rock secured, for the time being.”

There is a murmur of approval then, but Robb speaks up. “Is that wise Your Grace? We know Lady Margaery is a voracious schemer, what is there to prevent her from getting with child and then having your uncle murdered?”

Tommen looks at his friend then and says simply. “The fact that if she even so much as dares to do such a thing, I will have her brother murdered before her. She is not a fool, no matter what else she might be.”

The lord of Winterfell looks uncomfortable at that, but says nothing. Tommen then turns his attention to Jon and asks. “How goes the refilling of the coffers my lord?”

His friend is silent a moment and then says. “Well enough Your Grace. The money is steadily flowing in from those who fought for Prince Joffrey as well as those who fought for Lord Renly. Soon enough we shall have enough to pay off the debt that Lord Baelish created. It helps that your grandfather Lord Tywin has written off the throne’s debt to the Rock.”

Tommen nods. “That is good very good. We will need to keep taxes at the level they are currently at I think, otherwise there will be trouble.”

“Of course Your Grace, and that is the smartest option I believe. We are finally making some headway with the faith as well. It shall be an interesting few moons I believe with regards to the crown’s finances.” His friend replies.

Tommen nods, and then turning back to his uncle asks. “And what of those who fought under the dragon banner. How did that battle go?”

“They were beaten. It seemed that there was another force that joined the fray just as Viserys Targaryen looked to be winning. Whatever came of this force none know but it seemed their commander was killed as well. The confusion that came from their approach showed just how disorganised the Targaryens were.” His uncle replies.

Intrigued Tommen asks. “And what caused this confusion, I would have thought the Lynseni galleys would be well trained to avoid being disturbed by such a thing.”

There is a long silence for a moment and then his uncle replies. “It seems that the other fleet that came, was also flying a Targaryen banner. A three course battle was fought, and then that other fleet dispersed the moment their commander was killed.”

This surprises Tommen. “Another Targaryen? But I thought there were only two? Who was this third one?”

“I do not think truly was another Targaryen, I believe that it might well have been a ruse. A ruse meant to distract the invasion fleet and cause chaos.” His uncle replies.

Tommen considers this a moment and then dismisses it. “And what became of Viserys himself?”

“Dead. Slain during the battle. His army and fleet were destroyed, as was that of Stannis Baratheon, and the mystery third fleet dispersed. As for the man’s sister, well my men are working to get her as we speak.” Gerion replies.

“Good.” Tommen replies. “I want her husband slain, and I want her brought here. She shall join the Silent Sisters there is nothing more to it.”

There is a long silence then, and then Pycelle speaks. “Your Grace, if I may?” Tommen nods and the man continues. “There has been word from Lord Tywin, it appears he has found the eunuch, and is bringing him before court within the next week.”

Anticipation fills Tommen then and he asks. “Did he say where he had found the man?”

Pycelle shakes his head. “He did not, but I believe it was not far enough from here for it to be too much of an issue.”

“Good, very good.” Tommen says, smiling at the thought. 


	65. Finale

****

**9 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Gerion Lannister**

He was thrumming with anticipation, this was it, the final time was coming, judgement was to be passed on the eunuch, and the man who had so vexed him once before would be brought for right. Gerion looked around the throne room, and saw that it was filled, the man had brought an audience, before the wedding. The hall falls silent as the king speaks. “Thank you all for coming. Today is an important occasion, before you stands the traitor, Lord Varys known as the eunuch and the former master of whispers. He stands accused of treason and regicide, and now we shall hear from the man who brought him in. Lord Tywin.”

Gerion sees the smug look on the man’s face, and grits his teeth. His daughter looks at him from beside the Lord of Harrenhal and smiles reassuringly. His brother speaks then. “Thank you Your Grace. As requested, I went out looking for the eunuch, and found him hiding deep within Crackclaw Point. The locals were only too happy to provide me with him, for a price. It seems he had been hiding there for some time, and might well have been complicit in any multitude of crimes.”

His brother looks to continue, but then the king speaks. “Very well. Thank you my lord. Ser Gerion if you could take up the inquisition.”

Gerion smiles at the king and moves forward. “Of course Your Grace.” He pauses a moment smiles at his brother and then moves forward. “Lord Varys, why did you flee when King’s Landing fell?”

The eunuch titters slightly and then says. “Because I had served the man’s brother. And all know of the hatred that existed between the two of them. I feared for my life.”

Gerion snorts. “Come now, any reasonable man might well have expected some sort of leniency. After all, the queen dowager and Grand Maester had served Prince Joffrey and yet both still live. What would have made you any different?”

The eunuch is silent a moment and then he says. “I would not have been needed. Not when the man has you. You made me redundant, and so I fled.”

Gerion grins then, and he knows it is a cat like grin. “Only guilty men flee Varys, is that not what you said to me once. You would not have fled had you had some hand in some scheme or plot.” He pauses a moment allowing the hall to grow loud with whispers. “And we both know what that might well have been.”

The eunuch looks at him in surprise, before it fades into a mask. “And what would that be?”

“Come now Lord Varys. Let us not be coy here, evidence was found that you are and always have been a Targaryen sympathiser. It was this that led you down the path of working for war and destruction.” Gerion replies, a slight lie, there has been no proof found, but the look in the man’s eye confirms some of it.

The eunuch titters slightly. “You must be very sure, to make such an accusation here in public. Pray tell what proof do you have of this?”

Gerion is silent a moment and then says. “The sighting of you in the lands of known Targaryen loyalists, and the fact that there were men captured from the battle of the narrow sea who attest to you having been running the little rebellion movement against the Baratheons since the end of King Robert’s rebellion.”

The eunuch is silent a moment and then says. “How convenient.”

Murmurs are filling the throne room now, and Gerion smirking replies. “Indeed it is. But you must admit that such a thing cannot be denied. Pray tell why you would lie and commit treason, despite being accepted into the king’s peace?”

The eunuch is silent, and as the silence stretches, the murmuring begins to grow stronger, until he finally says. “Because the Baratheons were doomed to fail. They would never hold the throne for as long as the dragons did. I knew where the wind was blowing. You think by killing of Viserys and Aegon you have won, but you have not. There are more there, and they are coming.”

There is even more murmuring at this and Gerion laughs. “Come now my lord, let us not be naïve. Daenerys is the last of her line, and she is joining the Silent Sisters. There is not a chance for there to be more Targaryens, nor will there ever be.”

“You are a fool if you think that. There is always something out there, waiting and watching.” The eunuch replies his voice deeper than it should be. “There are those who remember the old order Ser. Fear them or woe to you.”

The man had stepped forward then, and as such is beaten back by the Kingsguard, as he moves back, Gerion swears he sees a hint of purple in the man’s eyes. But then convinces himself it is just his imagination. “How convenient for you to say. The king has had oaths of fealty from the men of Crackclaw Point, from the Reach, from the Riverlords, from all those who once fought for the dragons. They have no support here, nor will they ever have support again.”

The eunuch begins laughing then. “This, is what amazes me. The truth stands before you, and yet you continue to deny it. Fire and blood is coming to you. You shall never find that which you seek. Shireen Baratheon and her mother might be here, but the red woman shall never be found. You know this Ser Gerion, and yet you would deny it.”

A loud murmur begins erupting in the hall then. “I deny it because it is a lie. A lie you have told yourself for gods alone know what reason, and it is time that you accepted it as such. Your last hope ended on the narrow sea, those you trusted to carry out the plan have died. Your hopes were crushed and now it is time to end your miserable little life.”

The eunuch titters then. And the king speaks. “Lord Varys you are hereby found guilty of treason. How do you plead?”

The eunuch titters once more. “Guilty of course. Though you are no king of mine.”

Before anyone can say anything else, Durran, the King’s lion has leapt from his place by the king’s side and has taken a bite out of the eunuch’s throat. There is a stunned silence, and then the king says. “Well that settles that then. Let us end this trial and attend the weddings.”

A murmur of approval follows this and people begin to file out of the throne room, but Gerion remains standing there, looking at the eunuch’s body, a chill running through him. He cannot name the feeling he feels, but it is ominous.


End file.
